Me and Mine
by Tao-Ri-Sarra
Summary: Sometimes all that separates a loss from a win is three simple words. Jocelyn never rebelled against her husband and so the Clave falls in the Uprising. Now Clary lives in a world covered in the blood that her father spilled to turn the world on its back for her. Valentine has won. Darkness is Coming. The only question is from where? Full desc. in CH1. Rated for later, SEBCLACE
1. Brothers and Sister

_**In a world in which one fated action or rather, the lack of one, where a single change in history means that the Uprising was successful, Clary lives like a princess in a world of shimmering wonder and blood that her father spilled to turn the world on its back for her. Jocelyn never raises her hand against her husband, and so there is no forces to save the Clave during the Great Uprising. Sometimes all that separates a loss from a win is three simple words. Valentine has won. Darkness is Coming. The only question is from where? Sebclace threesome pairing, Incest. Will also have other pairings, but the main couple is ClaryxSebastian/JonathanxJace. Will probably have hurt/comfort later as well.**_

"_**If you won't give me answers," Valentine hissed, "you can give me your blood. It will do me and mine more good than it will you." **_

Jace had always known he had only one role in life: serve. Any and all other uses came second to laying his life before his lord, his master, the only father figure had had ever known. His father had been killed early on in life, leaving him orphaned with no where to go. Valentine Morganstern, the leader of a group of rebels that systematically took down the existing regime known as the Clave, had taken responsibility for his father's demise, as it had been on one of the Circle's mission that his father had been killed on, specifically assigned to him by Valentine himself as his right hand man. His mother had been driven insane by grief and had killed herself shortly after, regardless of the fact that she still carried him in her womb.

Valentine had ordered another member of his inner circle cut him out of his mother so he too wouldn't be lost. After all, there's was a dying race.

And so his very existence was owed to this man and his cause. He tried his best, growing up, to be everything Valentine wanted. His life belonged to Valentine for so many countless reasons after all, and despite being raised off grounds for several years, he was grateful. He learned, as he got older, that Valentine had made a habit of raising his children in separate households, and spending only allotted time with each, rotating through them on a daily basis so that their habits were unique in them and had no outside forces to dictate their personalities. Two days a week he saw him, and on the seventh day that didn't belong to one of the children belonged to Valentine himself.

On occasion, Valentine boasted to him the successes of the others; Clarissa was growing up to be a very bright child and was the subject of many household conversations. She was attractive to him, even if he hadn't actually ever met her. Her brother, it seemed however, found her the bane of his very existence. Jace just couldn't wrap his mind around that though. She seemed perfect.

As they grew older, that seventh day became a day of fraternization between Valentine's actual children, and he had heard stories about how the other boy and girl interacted. Jonathan, the eldest, had a distasteful habit of antagonizing his young, sweet sister into a bitter rage that often ended in blood; the two seemed polar opposites and he couldn't understand how they could act that way, when he would latch on to anyone that came to visit him- no one was safe from his affections. It was shortly after his sixth birthday that Valentine alluded that he may have had ceased his children's interactions with each other; Clarissa, the daughter, had apparently nearly killed her brother somehow. Their parents had been out of the room, and he had done what he always had, and when they came back, he was laying in a pool of his own blood as Clarissa gave it to him

It was then that he began begging for any scrap of affection more that he could receive. Despite knowing that he was nothing of real importance to Valentine, he wanted, needed the touch of another human being in his life. He longed for companionship, wished to breath it in, and clung when ever the man came around. 16 hours a week just wasn't enough.

What he got was hardly what he wanted. Valentine decided to pit the boys against one another, and used the excuse of socialization to make them strive to out-man the other boy. They fought, weekly, going at each other like their life depended on it, trading physical blows and mental ones. Their prize most days was hardly even worthy of the damages they each took. He eventually stopped putting forth the effort, knowing that the end result was never worth the risks involved, which drove the other Jonathan crazy because he enjoyed the vicious chase he ran far more than the actual prize of winning.

_Jonathan always was most dreadful to him. Always blood thirsty, he'd come at him from any side he could, just to get the upper hand. Valentine reprimanded him offhandedly, and the boy would smirk like his father had acknowledged a strength in him and would turn on him again._

_Spinning on his heel, Jace dropped down and shoved upward abruptly, taking his opportunity and momentum to drive his fist into the other boys face._

_Jonathan only smiled at him, wiping the blood from his split lip._

_He rushed him then, all fury, only to get caught up in Jace's long limbs as he flipped his brother and slammed him into the ground with a loud crack. The boy's black eyes widened as he sat beneath him, watching the wiry boy that stood threateningly before him. A noise at the doorway had both children's attention, and Morganstern's son summoned up every ounce of pathetic nature he could master and wailed out false agony, playing his mother like a puppeteer, large crocodile tears streaming forcefully down his cheeks as his face turned pink from the effort._

_Jocelyn rushed to her son, shoving Jace off balance and to the ground away from her weeping child and pulled him up into her arms, embracing him close as he sniffled, the back of his hand rubbing dramatically at his eyes as the tears came easily enough. Mothering came so naturally to the woman, as she rocked her baby boy to silence, easing his pains and fears alike. He longed for a moment like that, to have someones' worry consume them so like hers did time and time again that all they could do was rush to help them. Jace was sure he had hurt him, but not enough for the show the boy was putting on._

_Jocelyn Fairchild was a hauntingly beautiful woman, and for every part of her doll-like delicacy, she had three parts fierceness. She turned her verdant eyes on him, the narrowness cutting him like her son's blade. "Valentine, you must keep control over your play things. You alone are responsible for our children's safety when you expose them to such a... **fiend.**"_

_"I agree that someone should have kept an eye on him. But it should have been Jonathan's, not I."_

_"What if something had happened? What if it had been Clary and not Jonathan? What then, if your precious daughter was hurt-" The woman's arms visibly tightened, and he heard a muffled noise in her breast as the elder boy let out a wash of air across her corseted bosom, his hand tightening at her back._

_"What of Clarissa, indeed..." Valentine approached now on silent feet, and Jonathan noticeably straightened, his sniffling silenced immediately as he pulled back from his mother's embrace. He watched his reigning father, the strength in his taught muscles with a similar affection that he himself felt, and when he spoke he found that both lingered on his voice._

_A smile played at his lips, as he addressed his wife fondly, his hand brushing the columns of waves in her hair lovingly, "You still think her so weak that she couldn't take out her own Adam? Do you really see that much of yourself in our lovely daughter, Jocelyn, that you can't believe she could ever protect herself from the likes of him?"_

_Jocelyn turned away from him, her glance darting to Jace momentarily, taking in the small boy who quaked in fear of the King and Queen of this new world with all of the respect he could muster, with a burning passion for love and compassion from the only people he had ever known. Jace watched her as her mouth opened and closed quickly after, before pulling herself from son and husband and storming from the room, her wide gait making her hips snap as she moved, the echoing crack of her heels echoing in the room as she made her escape, intent not to let Valentine see how he had won._

_But Jace saw, he saw everything, and as she passed him, a look of disgust passed her face. Not because of what he was, but what she feared he would become, Jace understood._

_"Come, Jonathan Christopher." his father called regally, "attend to your mother, remind her of her role in all of this, while I see to your sister."_

_Silently, the boy nodded, seeing himself out of the room after his father._

On her seventh birthday, Clarissa had asked her father for more time. She had intended it to have taken another meaning, Jace figured, and thought herself most clever until she actually was given her gift, but what she received brought her more joy in the long run, at least that was how Jace saw it. Their interactions then became a three-way battle, one weekend out of the month. Jace began to live for this weekend, as he could pretend that he had a real family for once, complete with a mother that came along with the complete package. He watched the woman that mothered his siblings with interest in the way she attended her children; her affection seemed to all reside in Clarissa, and eventually that kind hand began to be offered his way as well, but to her actual son, she avoided, making a palpable distance that told him that neither really wanted to cross the void.

Regardless of the awkwardness and the intention behind the interactions, it was nice to have this family dynamic, and he tried to ignore the elder child's antics and focused on the girl's. Jonathan gave all the punches, but Clarissa dealt them out just as hard and rough. Despite her angelic features, he knew that she was like a viper ready to strike when provoked fairly quickly, and decided that her wrath would never be his, and moved to always be on her good side.

His favorite memory came from the first morning he had saw the young angel's face for the first time, and even though he had so few to count through, Jace was fairly certain it would have still been his favorite regardless of a larger quantity he could have had.

_This house had to be the grandest of all three Jace had ever been in. All of the floors were marble, gold inlaid and leafing so much on the walls. Painting hung in the hall of beautiful places and people. Despite its well-to-do appearance, the stark walls left him cold, and he wondered if everyone felt that way here. Opening a door which had previously been shut, Jace peeked in to watch the occupants within, a boy and a girl, in a spat._

_The girl had her hair in a loose side braid, the long curly hair sticking out defiantly from the delicate spinning design, making her look a bit wild despite the amount of care people gave her. She looked like a fairy tale princess to him, with a flowing dress to match her intricate hairstyle. The blue cotton sundress had smudges all over it, like she had been rolling in the dirt, and a splotched smear beneath her right eye._

_Her brother seemed to be harassing her again, his tongue pointed threateningly towards her like he was aiming to lick off the mud on her pale, freckled cheek, his arms splayed across her shoulders as he anchored her down where she stood and he tried to wrench her torso around._

_"GE'OFF ME, JONATHAN!"she cried, trying to unhinge the larger boy's hold. Her hands were grabbing at his arm, her feet lifting off the ground as she forced all of her weight into her arms, hoping to break his grip on his elbow._

_Jace smiled fondly, thinking that perhaps this was what it was to have a family. Without thinking, he stepped into the room and approached the pair._

_"Happy birthday, Miss Morganstern..." his voice betrayed him, cracking as he addressed her, watching her as she froze midair, her eyes like that of a doe as she put her slipper flats to the ground just in time for her brother to drop his hold on her shoulders._

_Jonathan was violently angry, his cry sharp as a knife stabbing with each articulation as he pushed Clary behind him, glaring at the approaching boy. "Don'tcho talk to my sister like you know her, angel boy."_

_"But she's my sister too, Jonathan. Same as you. I deserve to wish Clarissa-"_

_Clary ducked beneath the protective arm her brother meant to protect her with, shocking the white haired boy as she approached the orphan boy with all the kept stillness of a typhoon, reeling back and slamming the boy in the face with her foot with an elegant spin-kick that threw him off kilter. He hit the ground with a crack and the red-haired girl clamored after him, straddling his chest to pin him with her knobby knees against the marble floor, defenseless._

_For the second time in his life, Jace found himself looking up at a Morganstern woman and being subjected to her fiery wrath. It made him wonder if all men experienced women this way, or if something inside of him just rubbed this particular family the wrong way. He did, after all, impose on them constantly, and even now he found himself trespassing on a family occasion, unwelcome and unwanted._

_The girl looked at him a moment, mistrust easily the foremost thing in her eyes as she observed him, leaning back onto her haunches atop his ribs as he struggled to breath after the hit he had taken, before she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her hair fell like a crimson rope, tickling his throat where it swayed across, before she pulled hesitantly away, worried she had perhaps gone too far and turned her focus completely on the aftermath. His chest shook with every shaking breath and as she pulled away, she heard a silent groan of air washing over an injured lung._

_Shifting off of him, her gaze didn't waver from his, and he found himself haunted by the bright green orbs that remained pinned on him. Her hand held out to him in a peaceful offering, which he took, before getting hauled up close to her tiny figure._

_Jace supposed that perhaps some of the most amazing things came in small packages, as he watched the young princess seemingly at war with herself._

_"Next time," Clarissa began softly, her hand clenched in his shirt as she kept him near. Her green eyes looked around the room, as if he weren't a worthy enough subject as her hand came upon his shoulder, becoming iron as she pulled him close and she leaned in to whisper threateningly, "You call me Clarissa, I'll bring you to your knees."_

_Her hand shifted and idled in his golden crown of curls thoughtfully, her eyes darting back to his, the look intense and shimmering brightly, before patting him affectionately, "You'll be mine now, 'kay? Jonathan won't hurt you no more. Not unless he wants me mad."_

_The rest of the day went uneventful, with the three children playing a sort of Mother-May-I meet charades, where you had to appropriately guess what kind of monster you were being attacked by before they got you in three turns, each child taking turns to be the beast._

_Jace felt out of his league in comparison to Jonathan, especially when more children flooded into the grand room- a tall, lanky girl with pitch black hair and dark eyes accompanied by a boy with similar looks to him; siblings, Jace deduced, by the similar stance they walked in with, a closeness and fluidity to their movements born from years of close proximity. _

_The new presences made him feel off kilter; it was obvious to him that his siblings were close with the other two new comers by the way they responded. Clary dropped a ball, which she had been holding previously with a look of constipation on her face, a cry escaping her lips as she threw herself towards the door, a huge smile on her lips. She threw herself at the girl and was met with equal affection, the taller girl's hand coming to pet her ruby hair before they pulled away, brilliant smiles barely contained as they shook with excitement. _

_"Nice warlock, Clary," the boy called, dashing after the ball as it fell. He made a game of it with Jonathan as the girls occupied themselves with each other, bashing the ball across the room to each other._

_"Mum says we can stay for some time again!" the dark haired girl breathed with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "She'll be on another raid for some time and says its proper time Alec and I-"_

_Leaning to the side, the young girl cut off, her eyes catching sight of an awkward young boy standing on his own. Pointing towards him, her voice dropped, "Clary...who's __**that?"**_

_Turning, half confused, Clary saw him standing off on his own, and gestured that it was alright for him to approach them, "That would be Jace... Father brought him and made him a gift for me."_

_The girl looked horrified. "So...No new dresses for me to steal this year?"_

_Clary laughed, smacking her friend playfully, "Izzy!"_

_A smile took them both, before Izzy shoved the girl towards the dueling brothers, and Clary rushed to restart the game. The dark girl remained, however, her smile fading to nothingness, until she simply stared at him with a calculating gaze._

_She too was beautiful, like Jocelyn and Clary, a haunting gorgeousness that made him feel like he stood in the wake of an angel, cursed to have its wrath upon his head. "I know who you are, Jonathan Christopher Herondale, and now its only right you know who I am."_

_Her approach was silent, like the wind blowing leaves across the air, and she watched him with a gaze that did not waiver, dark chocolate eyes rimmed with indigo narrowing as she pinned him against the wall, "I am Isabelle Lightwood, the daughter of Commander Maryse Lightwood. And that girl, she's gonna be my Parabatai when were old enough." _

_Confusion washed over Jace and he tilted his head to the side, looking at her as if she had spoken another language, "Para bat eye?"_

_Isabelle looked at him as if he had grown a second head from his shoulders, a mild look of disgust in her eye. "__**Parabatai,**__" she intoned indignantly, cross that she would have to explain it to him. "You know, soul mates, who we Shadowhunters choose to fight the greater evil with?"_

_"Why fight? Surely everyone can just get along without war..." he seemed genuine in his answer, looking to the girl his age with golden eyes, wide and pure with untouched innocence that the world hadn't gobbled up yet. Neither noticed that Alec watched them now, curious what kept them from joining the game._

_Again, the boy seemed to just not be getting it, and Isabelle deflated instantly with shock, like a balloon being sat on, everything exploded in her head. "Wait a minute. Your telling me you don't even know what our mandate from god is?" _

_The blankness in his eyes was all the answer she needed. The dark girl backed away from him, smug and worried she had said too much. It was common knowledge in the Circle that Jonathan Herondale, named secondly Jace by her own mother fondly, was a captive shut in. It hadn't occurred to her how sheltered he might have been, locked away in his dead parents' home all alone._

_Looking to the taller girl, Jace tried to stop her. She was an enigma full of answers to questions he had never known he should have asked. "Who is god?_

_"Why, I am." A dark shadow fell upon the children, and all within the room turned to acknowledge the thick man with ivory hair that stood foreboding in the doorway. As Clary turned, he saw the way her green eyes brightened, and she rushed forward, throwing herself at the man in heavy armor._

_"DADDY!" The man in question dropped down into a squat to meet her, a smile playing at his thin lips as his large arms hefted the girl up against his chest as her smaller ones clung to his neck. With his daughter in his arms, Valentine looked fiercer somehow, as if all that could ever be precious to him was there in his arms, and he would tear worlds asunder to protect that which was closest to him. His attention turned, cold dark eyes fastening down on the Lightwood girl that spoke so freely._

_"It's time you left off on the tales, don't you think, Isabelle? It would trouble your mother terribly to know that you speak so openly of things you know nothing thought you much smarter than that. Perhaps it was a mistake, bringing you here..."_

_"Yes sir." The once vibrant and sassy girl melted, leaving behind a skeleton in her place., shaking as she watched him with her wide dark eyes, "Please let us stay. Alec and I want a proper education that isn't knee deep in some Lycanthrope."_

_The room fell into silence, and tension in the air. Clary felt it too, and pulled away, her gaze softening the dark look in his black eyes as he saw the saddened look on her soft face. Even a cold man could not break his daughter's heart. And so he bent to her whimsy, instead. "To bed, with all of you. We will discuss such arrangements tomorrow."_

_The room dispersed quickly, much like cockroaches when a light was turned on at night, Isabelle bolting for the door with lightning speeds, and Jace saw a flicker of gold as she disappeared, her brother hot on her trail._

_Jonathan and Clary paused together, tightening like a knot as Valentine urged them to their own rooms, trying to force the two apart with his gaze alone, tightening their stances much like a real knot would under pressure, the pair standing close to one another as they took each other in with calculating gazes again before the elder boy leaned forth and kissed his sister in a way Jace felt off about, his lips gently caressing hers like the way one might kiss the most important person in the world to them. He only let her go when the girl sighed and pulled away on her own, her fluttering lids looking up at him with mild annoyance and something else. Sibling rivalry, perhaps? She stepped away, forcing his hand to fall from her face as she turned and walked briskly away, throwing her voice as she left to make her final demands._

_"Be nice, won't you, Jonathan? We're all he has in the world. You wouldn't hurt me so, would you?" her voice seemed so regal then, a demand worded like a favor, and Jace wondered if Jonathan would humor his sister._

_Glumly, the boy shoved his hands into his pockets, and glared at him momentarily before following her out with a steady elongated pace. "Come along, angel boy. It's time for bed."_

_Jace hurried after the other boy, refusing to be left behind and lost in such a large and wondrously cold place. As the boys ascended the spiral staircase, it occurred to the golden-haired boy that it wasn't the place that had warmed him, but Clary herself. _

_Settling into the futon thrown on the floor for him in Jonathan's room, Jace pressed his back against the wall, and felt the heat register through his body. Somehow, he knew that Clary must be on the other side of the wall, warming his very soul. He fell asleep thinking on Parabatai, and soul mates, and the identity of god, whoever he possibly could be._

Clary had been right with her promise too. Jonathan stopped all of his bitter attacks, replacing them with barely barbed ones. He soon found he might be able to befriend both, in fact. The brother seemed to be finally coming along.

The family outings came to an abrupt halt fairly quickly, however, and the children returned to their solitary homes, barred into the confines of the houses. None of them knew quite what had happened, but Jace eventually heard the accusatory whispers of the staff that made sure he had the means to continue living in his solitary confinement. Jocelyn Fairchild- Morganstern had been abducted from Valentine's home. Clarissa had been inconsolable, he heard, crying like the young child she was. The whole house spoke about it constantly, echoing hollowly through the walls to reach ears that they would rather they not receive them.

It had enraged him- how dare they speak of their masters like that? They owed everything to Valentine Morganstern, their very existence and way of life was because of him, and how he had seized control back from a corrupted government.

And then worry settled deep into his bones after his wrath had its way with him. Was Clary alright? He had no way of knowing, and the lack of contact with her, with Valentine, and perhaps even Jonathan, had him on edge.

He could be there for them, should be there for them. They were his family, weren't they? How could he just sit around and accept that they were in pain and not try to make his way to them, to alleviate what he could?

The Lightwood children came to live in his household as well. The loss of his wife turned Valentine wrathful, and those without reason in his house were sent away. From what the two had whispered to him under duress, he gathered that Clary was fine, physically, but she was inconsolable, mentally unwell. She and Jonathan both were barely eating, and neither left their rooms these days. It was for the best that they left for somewhere they would be given ample attention.

He supposed the same could be said about him. The only company he kept was when Izzy or Alec forced their way in with food and refused to abandon him. The two were loyal to a fault, and he wasn't even a close friend. At least at the time he wasn't. Now... now he couldn't imagine life without the two.

Regardless of the feelings that welled right beneath the surface of his flesh, like a pulse brought to life by his strife, Jace squashed down the worry and the guilt, and forced himself to live on without his adoptive family, becoming wound up and snappish as he bottled his urges and his worry, mindlessly shaking them as he went and ignoring the way they festered together, bubbling until they were ready to explode. He was thankful for those two surrogates that came to him with no where to go, because if he were in their shoes, he would have went running ages ago.

XOX

_Somewhere faint in the distance, the bell tower tolled nine. It had been a source of constant comfort to him for years, the only way he had to mark how the day had passed him by and how long until he was allowed human contact again_.

_A hard downpour shook the shingles on the roof in a rhythmic pattern. Sometimes, when it rained like this, he could pretend that there were so many people in the house, that that was the commotion he heard was the sounds of their movement: dancing, running, playing. He closed his eyes, and let his fantasies run wild, clinging to the feeling of camaraderie. He fell asleep in this fashion many nights, and woke up in the morning depressed to find himself alone, and it was in this way that he had fallen asleep the night that everything had changed._

_In the dark of night, something had rattled his window loose, letting the vicious wind and rain into his bedroom, the wet seeping into the curtains and the rich carpeting. Waking up, Jace bolted upright just in time to see a small shadow move across the window's light. His eyes searched out a figure standing weakly shaking in the dark, sliding the window back into place, as it trembled with cold._

_Jace would have known that small, doll-like figure anywhere, and despite his shock, he was excited to see his little adopted sister._

_Clary stood, drenched to the bone in a sage colored night gown, the elegant pin-tucking the only thing that hadn't fused to her skin, and her arms crossed over her chest to try to warm herself futilely, running rapidly up and down the length of her biceps. She shivered in the dark, cold and afraid, and something in him tightened, calling him to action. He had to protect her, had to put her before himself. "C-clary?" his voice cracked, coming out like a rattling sigh like one might when they are ice cold. Something in him recognized that the warmth in the air that seemed to follow her was gone, leaving them both hollow, watching one another, "W-what a-are you doin here?"_

_The girl looked as if she had gone through the worst this night, and it wasn't just the rain. There was a deep terror in her eyes that clouded her vision, widening the large green orbs and dilating them so the brilliant irises were slivered. They cleared just enough for her to recognize him as his voice reached her, and she seemed to be grateful for his presence, even though she shyly stood away from him near the window._

_Finally, after some time she spoke, and her voice would have broken him if he had let her. As it were, it shook him to the core, "My house is completely empty. Everyone's gone now, even father. The wolves woke me in the night and no one was there... no one was there..."_

_Being the youngest, her mother had coddled her, never leaving the girl alone in the house, and only attending her son Jonathan when her husband was present. With them both gone, she had no one to turn to when the night took its dark turns. She was abandoned, and she knew that deep in her bones and it had left her deeply shaken, enough that she had come here._

_"You shouldn't be here, Clary. Your father will be mad. Let me call someone to come get you." He only took a step, maybe two before she seized him, wrapping herself around his stomach, her face buried in his chest, warm wet seeping into his abdomen. _

_She was crying. "Please don't send me away Jace. I just want to be here, with you."_

_It occurred to him that it was a several hour walk, perhaps five for someone of her height. There would be no sending her away, even if he wanted to. He couldn't send her back into this rain, not on the night of a full moon, not to an empty house with no one to look after her,and above all else not when she was so obviously shaken and clung to him like a last life line before she was caste out to an unforgiving sea._

_Moving over to the squat dresser that housed all of his clothes, Jace pulled open the middle drawer and pulled out a knit wool sweater that was a little on the large size on him. He had gotten it for Christmas the year before, the first and only one they had shared as a complete family, thirteen months prior in fact, as he had been expected to grow into it and had not yet. He supposed he was just on the smaller side for his age, and accepted it with grace, packing the caramel colored sweater away for later use. Turning, he held it out to her, offering it up in exchange for her wet nightdress. _

_She took the thing timidly and held it out in her tight, white little fingers, her eyes looking for a place to duck behind for modesty. Jace, despite having never been taught modesty nor how to honor it, watched on, intrigued as she gave up hiding, and just slipped the overly large sweater over her head, struggling after it slunk around her hips to unbutton and slip the night dress off. It fell with a wet plop and her feet lifted daintily, stepping out of the large seeping puddle that was forming._

_The sweater came to her mid thigh, right above the knee and the sleeves draped over her hands so that the fingertips could be barely seen. It was endearing, the way it slunk off her one shoulder to expose the soft freckled skin beneath. It made her look all the more fragile, like a pixie compared to his much larger size. Her hands were futilely pushing the thick fabric up around her elbows. She looked ready for bed now, much more than he, as weariness settled deep into her bones, stiffening her bones. The back of one of her hands came up and sleepily rubbed at her eyelids, a soft yawn pulling at her lips as Jace walked away from her and she stumbled along after like a little lost lamb._

_Jace pulled the blankets back in the bed that he had previously been occupying and slid back into the cooling spot where he previously laid. He was busy smoothing the quilt when she scrambled up the mattress after him. Clary's slight weight came against his and her stomach molded to his as she curled into his side, her ruby head resting against his large shoulder._

_Her hair now was all that was left that was left to tell the tale of her journey here. Reaching out, Jace innocently smoothed a wayward strand back into the wet mass. His hand came away sharply as the backs of his knuckles caressed her bare collar bone, and her breathing hitched, her lovely eyes searching his out as she blinked coyly up at him._

_She blinked at him, wide and like a doll in so many ways, and Jace longed to do as Jonathan had done. Tentatively his face lowered, lips pressing against her full ones as he drew out her small gasp, her mouth moving against his, igniting darker things in his mind than such an innocent kiss ought to._

_They fell asleep in each others arms, dozing deeply. _

_The bell tower tolled midnight, and it sounded so close that it rattled the two children awake. Clary's hand tightened in the boy's pajama top and Jace jumped, waking them both._

_His eyes blinked rapidly in the dark, trying to make sense of what just happened while the girl on top of him sat up on her forearms. She too was confused, but kept her facial expression in check, even though she looked to the window where the waning moon sat in the middle of the sky. A smile passed her lips, and she laid her head back down, snuggling into her bed mate's chest. _

_A soft, warm something brushed against his lips, startling him. His lashes fluttered shut, the long pale hair covering the dark gold beneath._

_When he opened his eyes again, he saw the wide-eyed girl staring down at him innocently, as grand smile spreading over lips as she leaned forward, kissing him again and again, once, twice on the mouth, and again as an afterthought at his brow."Happy Birthday, Jonathan._

_"What is your wish?" she airily whispered, her lips still only a moment always from his. Her loving eyes watched him thoughtfully in a way no one else ever had, a way he doubted anyone else's ever could, and he couldn't help but feel content, here in her arms, warmed by the light of her very soul._

_His arms tightened around her, and his head cocked slightly to the side in a very Jace fashion, "A million wishes?"_

_Clary smacked him playfully, a growing smile taking over her entire face as she laughed, and oh, how he loved that sound, "That's not how wishes work Jace!"_

_In check now of her mirth, she leaned her forehead against his and closed her eyes, and he felt his heart reaching for her, "You only get one, or else it makes the wishing meaningless. It's the same as having everything; if you have the world, you can't understand real happiness, because you can't understand why everything is so meaningful."_

_"I suppose I'll have to make this wish worth millions then." Jace sounded thoughtful. His golden eyes watched her, washed out in the moonlight that shimmered through the curtain across his face and dark still, because only one side of his head faced the window. The light illuminated one eye softly_

_"What'dyou wish for then?" Clary's voice dropped, her breath baited. He saw how red her lips looked, the way they parted as she looked up innocently at him._

_Jace's lips moved foward, brushing against her cheek, his arms pulled her as close as he could manage without hurting her, and when he had finally absorbed the feeling of another human being, he held her there, her head craddled in the crook of his neck as his hand wove its way through the luscious, wet garnet hair, his lips at her ear. "My wish is to never be alone again. Especially not on my birthday..."_

_A meaningful smile appeared again on her lips, and she lowered her head enough that they pressed against the soft shell of his ear, "Then I'll be sure never to leave you alone, ever, again. Your wish is my command."_

_XOX_

_For once in his young life, Jace woke up truly happy. A halo of luscious, fiery hair spilled over his white pillows, framing the delicate face that had pressed itself into his chest. A noise had roused them, though neither were ready to move quite yet. _

_A door slammed and he forced his eyes to crack open, before forcing himself up and sitting, waking Clarissa entirely as he upset her from her peaceful place between half on the bed aand half on his chest, his eyes settling on their father who locked the door behind him and approached the bed with murder in his eyes._

_To say that Valentine was unpleased was a major understatement. He was wrathful when he came into Jace's house and found his daughter in bed with him, even more so how she laid with her head on his shoulder, her body molded on top of him as his arms held her around her waist._

_XOX_

_**Author's Note: I do not own The Mortal Instruments nor its characters. They belong to Cassandra Clare.**_

_**Quote at the beginning sparked most of this. Blame Ithuriel. He put such things in my mind...**_

_Helllllloooo again my lovelies. So this one began as a series of drabbles, about 10 pages worth now, and a theory of what if. The whole premise, the single irregularity here is that Valentine knew about Jocelyn's second pregnancy, which led to her never turned to Luke, and thus there were no allied forced to help the Clave. I also like the idea of the three amigos, with both boys pinning for her Adam thing may have confused many of you, but I will get around to explaining it in great detail. Any other questions, feel free to ask and I will try to answer them accordingly._

_Anywho, so much more to come. I adore this series, and with the conclusion of the final book in the series, I present this Alternate Universe in which our favorite heroine grew up in a "happy" home, completely accepting who she is._

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'Till Next Time

TAORI


	2. Flame for the Birth of Nephilim

To say that he mad was an understatement. He had found his young daughter in bed with one of her brothers, so intimately pressed that it had him furious, regardless of how clearly his mind told him that nothing had yet occurred. But intimacy went hand in hand with passion, and no one would get away with such with _his _daughter. The only love and affection she needed would be, could be provided from he and Jocelyn.

That thought tightened his chest. Maybe that's what started all of this.

Part of the rage was rational his daughter had traveled on her own for hours to get here, in conditions that were probably fairly questionable as the prior night was the night of the full moon, and Brocelind Forest wasn't too far off from here. She very easily could have been attacked and killed, and no one would have known the wiser, no one could have protected her.

Valentine was unsure what he would do if something happened to the girl. She was so much more than an experiment, and his affection for her ran far deeper than he could imagine it could for one small child; his love for her perhaps outweighed that of Jocelyn's, a horrific thought of its own right. True, he had shot up all three of his children in utero, but it wasn't something he had ever given a second thought to, with the exception of Jonathan. All of the children were growing magnificently, and even if one child showed ill-advised tendencies...

Well that was his cross to bear, wasn't it? He regretted turning his son into a monster, not having experimented on him in the first place, but he was improving at least. The medications seemed to greatly improve his temperament he could even interact with Clary again without the two drawing blood.

It was the irrational rage, the passionate hatred that overtook him, that had the children afraid.

Wrenching his daughter from bed, Valentine pulled her small body against his chest. She struggled, of course she did, so like her mother, and he had to employ a technique he usually thought beneath him, and held the girl around the throat until she crumpled, passed out from the carotid artery compression.

Jace moved of his own accord, worried for his sister. Jumping from the bed, he rounded on him, shouting his confusion, but only earned himself a rough back-hand that threw him back towards the bed, his head snapping back and hitting the frame in his descent to the floor. His arm caught the rail as he slid downward, and a loud groan escaped his thick lips as his weight settled down, straining his arm backward painfully.

Their father held the girl gently, holding her soft face to the light as his large hand slid up her throat to hold her chin. She was every bit her mother, and he would be damned if anything came upon her head. Lifting her up, Valentine laid her back down on the mattress as Jace struggled to right himself, too messed up to get up the right way.

"What did you-" Jace began but was cut off as another fist swung at his face, catching him in the jaw and disrupting him. It hurt, but he didn't give him the satisfaction of a cry, only falling forward as he tried to regain his balance, the world swimming faster than he could watch it move. Everything blurred and his face burned, blood dripping from the cut that ran across his face, and he didn't see the knee that slammed up into his rib cage, roughly crushing the thick bone. Jace doubted it broke, but he could only take in shallow breaths, and a sharp yelp gave Valentine enough satisfaction that he idled for a moment.

While he was down, Valentine wound the boy's hair in his fingers, and yanked, tossing him back to the ground.

"Stay where you belong!" the older man bellowed viciously. He struggled himself with the urges to end the child's life and the desire to keep alive what he had invested so much time and resources in. The boy obeyed, rolling into a ball as he struggled for air.

Staying low, Jace rolled weakly to his knees, his breath wheezing with every in take, and his head curled downward to the ground, his forehead pressed to the low shag rug. He could feel bruises just beneath the surface, every broken bone that may be going the wrong way, and every muscle straining from the beating that he took without so much as raising a finger to defend himself.

"To be loved is to be destroyed, broken, Jace." Valentine looked disgusted now, but Jace couldn't pinpoint whether it was with him or with himself, but he figured it probably was the first; he had crossed so many lines last night, that he deserved this. He was nothing... nothing... He should feel blessed that he was even being cared for by this man, let alone welcomed so deeply into his family, and here he was taking advantage of his daughter's loneliness to fill his own.

It wasn't right, Jace knew, but he didn't regret his actions. He would take the punishment he was due, but he would not apologize. Not for this. "The next time I catch you so much as looking at my child that way again, we will revisit every torture you have studied. In excruciating detail."

Jace said nothing, did nothing. Everything in him screamed to look to Clary, to make sure she was all right, but he dared not lift his gaze from the floor. The boy had no doubt that their father wouldn't end him right here and now, and though it was his right, Jace wasn't sure if he would even defend himself against that, and so he stayed, sending all his good intentions and wishes silently through the floor.

The pale haired man sat, folding his legs at the knees, on the bed beside his angelic daughter, pulling her head into his lap. He pet her, lovingly as he observed the golden boy, broken on the floor. It was bothersome, the way the boy hadn't acknowledged anything, not the beating nor his words. He stayed pressed against the ground, somewhat in a fetal position, as commanded, but he had come to expect some sort of retaliation.

"Do clean yourself up. The Lightwood girl likes to ask questions, and I don't know about you, but I won't be answering them."

It was enough to make the boy move. He lifted his head, and struggled to gain footing, stumbling towards the door weakly. He crashed into several things on his way - a chair, a wall, the doorway- until finally he broke off into the hall. A loud crash alerted the entire household that something was amiss, and all he could think of was how grateful it did not occur in his own household.

Hefting his daughter off the bed once more, he made his way from the house just as the shit was about to hit the fan.

XOX

Alexander Gideon Lightwood had always been a very particular boy. He woke up every morning shortly after or before dawn, showered, and proceeded to find a corner or a window or some other nook or cranny that he could fold himself into with a book where he would pass half the day alone, absorbing as much as he could from the literature he found laying about the Herondale manor. Stephan and his family must have been avid readers, scholarly prowess obviously a high trait of theirs, as books lined most of the rooms that he had been able to gain access to. Out of the four floors, he had maybe found perhaps 15 rooms without books, and 8 of those had been bathrooms, and one didn't count because it had the ever comical **"**_**Everybody Poops**__: a Parent's guide to potty-training_" laying beside the sink on the second floor, another being the grand hall, and another the dining room.

So on this particular morning, the boy woke up, pulling on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt which covered down to his first knuckles on his fingers and had few holes after a quick shower, knowing he was on his own until the rest of the house woke up. Today was of a special nature, he had heard rumors that Valentine would return off schedule for the young lord's birthday as was tradition, and they were all sticklers when it came to tradition. He had caught sight of the massive cake that sat in the kitchens the day before, and wondered if anyone else would come. There were always plenty of people around for Clary's birthdays, but for the life of him, Alec could not recall a single party for Jace or Jonathan that he had been invited to, not that he had gone to many of Clary's.

Silently, the pale boy moved out into the hallway, intent on going down to the second floor to a cozy little window seat in what was once a well visited library, all the books' bindings starting to fray from use, and all were well cared for as well, they were simply ancient. Taking the stairs two at a time, Alec gave a sharp cry, his hand coming to his mouth to stifle the noise before he woke the whole house.

"By the Angel, Jace! What the FUCK happened to you?" Alec shrieked as he saw the boy, laying in the broken shards of a vase that once sat peacefully with an array of floral fauna.

Weakly, the boy lifted his face to look mildly at the intruder, his voice coming as a broken croak as his split lip creaked open painfully, "I fell down the stairs..."

Alec leaned forward, a worried look on his face. His hands tentatively touched the break in his cheek, the winding rip that ran from the middle of his bottom lip across his cheek. The dark haired boy knew the difference between a hit and a fall, and this looked like the drag of a ring, not of a staircase. As his fingers delved too hard, Jace muttered a soft cry, and winced away.

Nodding, he leaned forward, pulling Jace's arm over his shoulders as he helped the larger boy limp to the nearest bathroom. If he wanted to hide himself behind a façade, then he would allow it, it was the least he could do. It was slow work, and it seemed Jace was intent on being left to rot on the floor as with ever step he slipped from his grasp, but Alec wasn't about to give up. He half dragged him into the bronze bathroom with a Victorian-style cauldron tub three times the size of almost any tub he had ever seen. If Alec had wished it, he was sure the vat of water would allow him to float on his back with arms and legs outstretched and he would only just touch the sides at any direction.

He motioned Jace towards the tub, and the boy sat limply on the lip as Alec turned the faucet on high, steaming liquid shooting forth into the pot-like tub. He didn't seem to be of any mind to obey him yet, and watched the elder boy throwing scented salts and, with an after thought of rifling through the medicine cabinet, threw in some tea leaves and dried rose petals for their natural astringent qualities. He smirked, recalling that many thought of roses, and in particular, their petals, as romantic, floating on the water as they were now.

The boy gave chase, pressing him against the tub roughly, as Alec noticed he had not made any advance on the front of actually getting into the tub, "Take off your clothes."

He didn't move, just stared blankly at the boy occupying his home. It wasn't often that someone ordered him around, and typically speaking, the orders were normally to put clothes _**on**_, not remove them. The face that met his was reassuring, but firm.

"C'mon. Quickly now. Before Iz comes in here and gives us both a verbal lashing." The dark haired boy's hand tugged urgently at his clothes, plucking at the buttons of his shirt until Jace conceded, moving of his own accord to remove the damaged flannel pajamas. As he moved, Jace winced as the muscles seized up, making Alec help him strip anyway. The playful smirk that played across the dark-haired boy's lips made him feel like he perhaps enjoyed the act much more than Jace did, and once he was done, he shoved the younger boy enthusiastically towards the tub. Jace obeyed this time without complaint, knowing it would do him no good to argue here, and sloshed into the water, a soft sigh rising from his lips as the bath rose up to embrace him warmly.

Alec was a slight boy, smaller around in the waist than he was, but he was tall, beginning to gain muscle mass in his long legs. He was still fairly hairless, and in the right light, he was sure Alec would get mistaken for a girl without enough curves. He was so thin that he almost had an hourglass shape, and as he lifted his arms to pull his shirt over his head, Jace couldn't help but watch the lithe muscles in his abdomen ripple upward, the ridge in his hips sharp contrast.

"Wait!" Jace cried, realizing the boy was pulling off his pants now, his bright blue eyes forever on him. The paleness to his flesh shone like a beacon, and since he had run his hand through his cropped wet hair and it stood back still, his eyes stood even brighter, his dark eyelashes stark against his cheeks and dark hooded lids. He looked shocked, and seductive, perhaps, as his thumbs paused hooked in the waistband of his pants ready to shimmy them down. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Alec laughed, and for a moment Jace felt ridiculous for feeling insecure with the boy, his lips pulling back as the melody echoed warmly through the bathroom. His hands wrapped around his stomach as he heartily howled, and his right hand fetched the stele he had in his back pocket, the mirth subsiding as he brought it thoughtfully to his lips, biting the tip slightly as he leaned back into the sink, "Ravishing you, of course."

Jace responded as one would think a straight adolescent boy might, and quickly covered himself, his hands violently yanking the shower curtain around to help create a barrier between them. Alec fought with him for a moment, before going to the other side of the tub, and simply pushing his way into the tub after only a few seconds of peace. The golden-haired boy panicked momentarily. He had no where he could run.

"Easy there, Herondale." Darting his eyes back to the electric blue ones that pierced him through the soul, he felt like he could command nothing but the furthest reaction of his body with the boy staring at him like that. He still had boxers on, but there was something predatory in the way his muscles rippled as he lowered himself towards the water, perching on the tub lip, "My only purpose here is to help you out. After all, with your luck today you'd drown in the shallow end of the drain. Now c'mere."

Watching the other boy, Jace eventually was able to shift upwards, realizing the other boy would not make another approach. Shakily, he relinquished the shower curtain, and it rustled back into place, still half covering him. Alec took his hand first, and rubbed gently, working out the easiest injuries first with attentive caresses that had him singing inside. He'd never had someone there to care for him after a beating, but knew probably more than most on how to reset your own dislocations and field dress wounds. It was far more pleasant than he had ever thought it could be, and he leaned further into the elder boy's hold, scooting closer and closer until he sat between the thighs that had frightened him, the back of his head towards Alec as it fell forward in pleasure.

Alec's strong, nimble hands ran comfortingly over his back, and he felt a heated touch along with it, a burning sensation following the chase of cold steel as the boy behind him cut iratzes into his pale flesh. His voice came as a breathy rasp, "Not a word of this to Isabelle. She doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut."

"Why?"

"Because she would wonder why it was needed in the first place."

"No not that." Breathing out in a rush, golden eyes met his, and Alec melted in the gaze. If the right questions were asked now, he might lose this boy and all the advances they were making would be for nothing. It had been a joke this time, making light of his anxiousness of being nude with another boy, but one that Alec hoped might one day be a reality. With his hands in the boys soft hair, Jace made small, whimpering noises that made him hard and he could only imagine those full lips falling open as he panted, his head pressing backwards in ecstasy.

"Because someone needs to look out for you. To Protect you." _**To love you. **_The Lightwood son thought silently, with a twinge of bittersweet resentment, brushing through Jace's golden curls, checking now for any breaks in the soft flesh. He felt like something had broken between them, something he could never fix again.

"Thank you." Jace's voice came from dead silence, stark in the pale room. He relaxed, feeling the other boy shift slightly behind him, arms coming around his shoulders as the two boys melded into one. "Thank you..._**Alec**_."

And perhaps, things were meant to break. Because sometimes, things once broken were given a chance to become stronger than they once were. With a smile, Alec pulled the long golden curls back, returning to his prior affections with finger-pads and nails, "Anytime...I'll always be there for you. You just have to ask it of me..."

XOX

Clary sniffled behind him, her tears long dried as she stumbled along behind her father. Her feet would have to be seen to, Valentine realized. She must have walked to the Herondale mansion in her slippers, and they did little to protect her small extremities. Her toes were black, and all up and down her legs to the seam of the sweater there were gashes where blood dried.

She had woken up about fifteen minutes from the house by horse, and had jumped from the beast, refusing his help, she was so furious with him. She had her mastered pout in place and limped with an attempted stomp beside the horse despite his pleas for her to get back on.

He tried to be lenient with her, always, but every time he gave her an inch she took the whole damn mile.

"Clarissa!" his voice was dark, commanding. His presence did nothing to help her mood, and she began crying harder as he went to touch her with the bloodied hands he had been to busy to have washed yet. His hands fell away, and he dismounted in order to be on equal level with his daughter, and he took a step towards her, softening his voice, as he tried to touch her chin affectionately, his other embracing her by her forearm to halt her, "Clary..."

She recoiled from his touch, turning her wet, hateful eyes to him for the first time ever, and something inside of him twisted, crying to him to put her back in her place. His hand tightened, fisting beneath her upturned chin, and before he could do anything, the girl shoved past him, running up the stairs to the house. Her poise was obviously taut and the moment the girl slammed the door shut, he already felt the undercurrent of his son's rage, even before he sought his gaze out from his window seat on the third floor.

Jonathan's dark eyes told him all of his misdeeds, all of the hatred he had barely disguised for the man they called father and of the wrath that overtook him, tightening his muscles for a fight. A movement in the room had his attention immediately, and a flash of red and dark green crashed into him, melting all of the evil he had seen a moment ago.

His son embraced his sister, his hand going to her fiery hair as he pulled her close. With one final glare, Jonathan closed the window curtains, finality ringing with a clear message for him. The last sight the father saw as the red curtain fell shut was the wide, malicious smile spread over his son's lips, the red halo of hair pressed beneath his chin as he looked down at the courtyard with superiority.

_**You are losing her.**_

And there was nothing that Valentine Morganstern could do but sit back and watch the city burn from the single spark he had lit unintentionally.

XOX

(~9 months later, October.)

The golden leaves outside rustled, casting strays and broken pieces a like across the courtyard. She could see the small lake outside shimmering through the leaves strewn across its surface and a boat rocked against the dock off shore, drawing out Clary's yearning to plunge beneath those gentle waves, to take in the warm, dying autumn air and the last of the outside world before it froze. It was on days like this she longed to escape, with her governess droning on and on and on about nothing that would ever concern her. So what if the Downworlders were their enemies?

The woman was nothing to look at, but it was obvious that she had ages of knowledge under her belt, experiences that made her important enough that Valentine requested her of all people to educate his children, and after she consented, Valentine's commander's children, the Lightwoods. The pale orange haired woman pivoted, stalking to- and- fro with her book before her and she drilled out facts like a sergeant, her other hand at the back of her hip, leaning back as she moved about the front of the room. She caught bits and pieces of this lesson, and knew she would be able to skirt out of any dangerous situation the instructor might turn on her if she should notice her inattentive nature today.

Her grandmother was an attentive woman, intelligent, too, and though she had never run off head first into battle like her husband or daughter, Adele Fairchild made up for it with her vast knowledge, and often spoiled her grandchildren, letting Clary in particular get away with everything under the sun so long as it wouldn't get her into too much trouble.

She would risk it. The day outside the window and the world in her own mind were just too intriguing. Idly, her hand floated along the paper, drawing out flowers that she fancied woven through a lovely woman's hair as she thought about a Faerie Queen in all her splendor, walking around in the world of decay outside, her mind far away as her maternal grandmother moved from the fae court legends on to something more of substantial value.

_**"And so the Vampires built an iron-clad citadel with the fallen corpses of their victim, closing themselves off to our forces. True we could not reach them, but they left themselves without food as well. What has happened to them, who could ever know for certain?"**_

The only upside of her enduring these day to day lessons was that it was one of the few times she saw anyone other than her brother and her father, as the resources for good instructors was in limited supply; those that were good enough to teach, for the most part, fought on, and died before the ripe age of teaching others what they had learned, and so it fell upon her grandparents to instruct them, all four of them. It was her single daily socialization, her only obligation that dragged on for what felt like eternities but in reality was only the morning hours between breakfast and lunch. So this left the young girl with ample enough hours on her own. It was rather funny, that in her lonely hours she wanted something to occupy her time, but here she was, occupied and wanting nothing more than to run off.

The class moved on without her, unbeknownst to Clary, far away in dreamland, as she watched the way the woman on her paper seemed to move in the dying trees, in the pale flowers beneath the trunks. Her brother, too, was not in the studies today, leaning back in his chair, with his feet kicked up on the table disrespectfully.

_**"And where would you find yourself a warlock, should you ever find yourself in need of such a thing?" Adele asked the children, overlooking the group as if they all ought to jump up with excitement to her question. Either of her grandchildren would do, but both were content to look elsewhere and pay their own thoughts more attention than her.**_

_**"It's a trick question." **_The small voice almost scared her, making her jump as a soft tenor erupted from the Lightwood boy. Alec rubbed tiredly at his eyes; he really needed to get Isabelle to leave him alone about this whole Jace thing, or else he'd start falling asleep in lessons, _**"You wouldn't find a warlock, unless it was still with its human mother. We haven't come across a living warlock that was past adolescence since Valentine razed the accords. They've either all died or dispersed." **_

Jonathan snorted, pressing back on two chair legs. He was so glad that soon he would start training for the front lines of battle, that he wouldn't have to listen to this old hag drone on. True, it was his grandmother,_** "Either way, good riddance."**_

But he didn't give a _damn _about her, or anyone else for that matter, save for Clary, for that matter. It always came down to what would make Clary happy. He eyed her, ever curious about what went on in the girl's head. She seemed far away, untouchable, but truly she always was.

Clary still hadn't asked Isabelle, or Alec for that matter, where they had gone after her mother was abducted, only taking her father's words for their face value; the Lightwoods went to a safe house, as there were too many key players in one house that Valentine felt that it became too unsafe for them all to remain. It was too much that his two children had to live together now without Jocelyn around to watch one of them, but Valentine had few choices. He refused to leave one of them unattended.

Their loss had probably more to do with her loneliness than that of her missing mother.

Deep in her meditation, the garnet haired girl wondered how long this peaceful set up would last. Often, Maryse Lightwood would abandon her children here for short periods of time, but by far this was the longest they had been without their mother for certain. It was almost two years now since she had gone, and though there was frequent correspondence, the children seemed changed, isolated. It was what she had seen in Jace that night, truthfully, what she had felt somehow from miles away. That single heart crying out in such pain that she couldn't help but follow its cry and soothe it in anyway she could.

Her breath caught in her throat, her form a ball of kinetic energy ready to burst outward, sizzling at the edges of her muscles. There, in the courtyard was her father, leading a lanky boy with golden hair, the wind catching their hair and tossing it about.

_Jace!_

The boy seemed to belong in this world, surrounded by lovely golds, russets and brown, and he trudged along behind Valentine with a suitcase barely large enough to carry more than a few outfits, his other hand deep in his leather jacket's pocket. His pose was tense as he followed their father towards the garden patio beneath the canopy of trees.

Clary hadn't seen Jace since his birthday several months ago. It had actually been the last time she had seen her father for more than a fleeting moment as well, as he yanked her from the mattress and dragged her from the house unconscious, and upon waking up, kicking and screaming. She had fought him the entire way home, demanding he bring Jace back with them, crying about the awful way he looked as he was left all alone again. Her feet moved without her control, her hands tightening to fists against the desk table.

The entire roomed turned, watching her anxiously, even Jonathan with his impassive black eyes. Her brother set all four chair legs back on solid ground, as he shifted again in his seat, ready to throw himself at anything and anyone that had set her a-stir.

The young girl stood up abruptly, knocking her chair away as she threw herself to the window, "JACE!"

The boy outside seemed to have heard her, and he whipped around, turning a golden head of hair and a softly tanned face towards where she stood, hands grasping the window as she pressed as close as she could get without touching the window panes.

"CLARISSA SERAPHINA MORGANSTERN!" Her grandmother's voice screeched, demanding her attention again, but Clary couldn't help herself, she was so excited. She smiled widely to him, and laughed, really laughed, so excited to see him that she couldn't contain it.

Dressed in a yellow dress today, Jace could make her out from the gardens that Valentine led him through. He paused, stiffly raising his hand to greet her as he saw a sickly thin figured woman yank her from her place and nod to the men outside.

"I'm sorry, Nana!" Clary cried, dodging out of the woman's hold, bolting for the door. The old woman couldn't stop her, or any of the children that followed her either, rushing after Clary. She gave a sharp cry, begging them to return, futilely however, and only Jonathan remained, but only for a moment. He came to the window as well, to see what the fuss was about, and touched the woman's shoulder with an air of dismissal.

"I will be needed elsewhere, I am certain. Father often has need of me when he returns. Perhaps we will see each other later tonight."

Valentine shook his head, leading his adopted son away towards the courtyard entrance, holding the door open for him. He followed silently, coming back into the house that made him feel hollow inside.

His father gestured for him to make himself comfortable in a chair and went further into the house, abandoning his son in the pillared room, half secluded from the elements. He had, after all, much to accomplish this night. He was a very busy man, and he only became busier the more children he brought into his home.

XOX

Waiting was always the worst thing for Jace. It seemed like a waiting game, and he was on the losing end. Sitting in the patio seating was peaceful at the very least. The wind blew softly, rustling the trees like a gentle gourd instrument. The sound echoed softly and sharply all at once as all of the deciduous trees sang their song of loss and rebirth, bitter and sweet to those that knew to listen to it. Jace looked to the water where he knew nothing lived nor ever would, and the willows that surrounded it. He wondered how long he would be made to wait, if it would be long enough that he joined in with the trees himself.

Leaning back, he let his eyes drift closed, thinking of what the girl must be up to these days. Valentine had called upon him to return to the Morganstern mansion for good; apparently the funds to keep it up and running were astronomical, and it had the man worried for his safety. He had already brought the Lightwoods back to the home, as well as Jonathan, and they all were immersed in studies. In a few short days, Alec and Jonathan would start up their regimental training as well to be Shadow hunters, and he was welcome to join them now.

But should he? Jace had until next August to begin and he wasn't yet the legal age to begin, but he didn't enjoy the prospect of being left behind by either boy, his brother or his friend. No, he would definitely be joining them for lessons. That was already decided, and Valentine had been ecstatic that he had accepted to press forward sooner rather than later.

But what would he do now, living in the house with Clary only a few rooms away. He had promised distance with his daughter, and now this close, she was sure to press the issue, and he didn't want either of them in any trouble. Could he turn himself cold to her advances, make her think that whatever had passed between them was nothing but fancy?

He didn't want to, but he would do what he had to to protect Clary, even if it broke her heart.

A new noise distracted him from his inner turmoil, something similar to what one might think faerie dust might sound like, but wet, like it was dampened by the sea. The amber eyed boy looked to the abandoned lake just in time to see the distortion of a ripped portal sealing over the lake behind a darkly dressed woman with long ebony hair.

She was moving across the courtyard now, and something in the way she moved reminded him of someone, somehow. It seemed like the rippling tide of waves, fluid and graceful and quickly gaining ground. She swayed softly, her round hips moving more than was necessary in her saunter, or perhaps it was, as she made no noise as she approached. If not for the portal opening, Jace wouldn't have even noticed her until she was upon him. It wasn't until he'd caught sight of her brilliant, piercing blue eyes that he recognized and could put a face to where he had seen someone move like that.

_'She must be their mother...'_ Jace found himself thinking as she crossed over the paused a moment, seeing the boy in the corner suddenly, and waved softly before going into the house. Both Isabelle and Alec took after their mother. It was impossible not to place her now, the resemblance was that uncanny.

Isabelle had once confided that her mother was who had renamed him. Apparently, Jonathan Christopher had been a very popular name for Shadow hunters, the first after their founder, Jonathan Shadow hunter; the second from_ Christo _which meant Christ and p_her _which meant to carry, which all Shadow hunters had accepted would be a strong name.

Somehow, the cards played out that two of many, many children of a similar name would end up in the same household. Maryse argued that they ought to shorten it, as Morganstern's son had been the first to reset the trend, and offered up _Jace _as what she would have called him, had he been taken to her to be brought up. She disliked the pretentiousness to the name, Isabelle explained, and thought even Jonathan ought to revoke the name, but would not suggest such a thing to Morganstern herself.

A movement at the door had him out of his seat, running for one of the trees to hide. If it were Clary he wouldn't hear the end of it.

Alec stepped outside, shielding his pale eyes as he looked around the green and gold scenery in search of Jace. Catching him, he darted after him, tackling him playfully as the boy almost made it to his hiding spot. He flipped them around three times as they grappled, before Jace even realized who had hit him from behind.

With a huge smile, he embraced the boy he hadn't seen in months, and cried, laughing, as Alec grasped at the hair at the back of his ear. He looked half to tears himself, "It's good to be home at home, finally."

The boy on top of him smiled and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. The heartbeat that thrummed against his was hard, but so right. It soothed his inner turmoil, and Jace had no idea he would ever feel this at peace, laying on top of another boy. "It is."

Finally... at home... His head rested against the boy's shoulder, as Alec lay peacefully beneath him, playing with his hair idly, "When your ready, I have to show you something. It's the most important thing I... the best thing I have experienced here..."

Smiling Jace nodded, "Alright. But let me be for now. I just came home finally."

His response was a soft rumble from the young man he laid on, a shifting, and a deeper embrace, the idle arms coming to hold him.

He might be a homeless orphan, but he could make this his home...

XOX

The pale man shook, holding his outstretched arm like an offending attack on his person. Perhaps it was the case...he had just shot himself up. He felt nauseated and the whole room spun. His son stood off in the corner, looking at him with disgust, and why not? He was an addict getting his fix, with not a care in the world of who saw what might bring him to his knees.

Pushing back in his chair, the father let his head roll back as the waves of cold wash over him. He hated this part, the moments right after. It was the fall first, before he was able to crawl out of the pit. In these next few hours, he would be at his weakest. He had chosen to do this now as he had not one of his warrior children but two to defend his home, with Maryse not far off. She was due to return by midnight, and he wanted to to be at his best for when she dragged her trappings with her.

"Awesome fucking birthday, father, thanks." A brilliant light shone down on him like a searchlight, and he winced. Somethings were better left in the dark. It was a motto he kept religiously when it came to his delving into his stores of angelic blood and demon ichor, but his son could care less. He glared daggers at the man that called himself his father. Valentine hardly blamed him. How many people could say that their father celebrated your advancement in life by altering you and himself?

"Language, Jonathan. I've taught you better than that."

His hand drifted a moment to his pocket, where the syringe sat, his 'birthday gift'. One of many presents that he was unwilling to accept. He wasn't an addict, not like his father, and he refused to stoop to his level.

"They're coming back, you DO know that, right? Maryse sent a fire message earlier," his son shuffled his feet in the thick carpet, idling near the door, "Loads of kids, this time. Close to the Bone Palace. You're in no position to receive them. Too big of a hit, this time."

Valentine had moved forward with his plan to eradicate the human race by replacing man with Nephillim shortly after seizing control of the Clave, and had his men dragging hoards of human children back to Idris to be changed by the Mortal Cup. Whole mansions were filled to the brim with bedridden children, the owners of the houses forced to care for the children that made it through the transition.

The Bone Palace was one of five great kingdoms spread across the lands that safe-housed the last of the Downworlders. Sure, there were more compounds that they knew of, but only four of them were truly frightening enough, the fifth lost them forever. But why chase after a group of monsters that had abandoned this world? They were no longer a substantial threat, the warlocks in their Spiral Labyrinth, and so it left him and his forces to turn their focus on those which might be if they gained enough of a strong hold.

Like the Glass City of Idris, Alicante, the Bone Palace was formed by layer upon layer of corpses and safe-guarded those within entirely, so that none but those 'invited' in could ever hope to enter, but their similarities ended there. The Bone Palace was built on the dead which the vampires had drained to husks and turned to some impenetrable material that fused together, much like steely colored glass, which the Shadow hunters had yet to figure out the substance of. The entire compound was sealed off from the outside world, which Valentine supposed was quite intelligent; why not block out a sun when you had no need of it? That being said, the focus of Alicante had been the elimination of the vampires only food source for some time, and their culling for children for the Nephillim cause had been centered there. Most raids were unsuccessful these days, leading Valentine to suspect that they might have all gone into hiding, or perhaps the vampires had grown wise and dragged what they could into their strong hold.

Either way, it was now a waiting game. Eventually, they would starve them out.

"Would you like me to debrief Lady Lightwood for you while you sober up, father?" Jonathan turned those dark, unloving eyes on him. He wondered often if he and Jocelyn were the only ones to see the evil lurking behind his gaze, especially where he and Clarissa were concerned. The girl seemed unfazed by it now, perhaps supporting of it if not coddling.

A knock came upon the door, and Jonathan growled, wrenching it open. A well built woman in all black from neck to stilletoed toe stood in the doorway, running her hands through her long black hair as she leaned, shapely against the frame, tugging the water from her locks over her jacketed right shoulder. As she moved, the two boys could see water stains on her black tank beneath her bomber jacket and her pants from waist to knee where her boots began looked worn and formed to her strong thighs.

"No, I'll debrief myself, thanks." her voice was commanding, with an underlying warm and motherly affection and she stood up straight, a wide swing to her hips as she prowled in. It was amazing how intimidating and in control the woman looked at any given moment, like a dominatrix she was powerful in any situation. She pushed into the office, her warm hand coming down like a vice on his son's shoulder before she whipped him unceremoniously from the room, slamming the door in his face and setting the lock behind her.

Valentine looked to the woman for the first time, a mopey smile spreading over his thin lips. She was always a welcome face. Always loyal to a fault, she had loved him, always. She had been devout in her affections, loving him before her own husband, perhaps. It was, after all what drove the wedge between them that had gotten Robert killed.

She crawled up into his lap, all tight leather against firm curves. She was a seductress sent to lure him from his wife, and Valentine let her pick up the void that Jocelyn had left behind.

"Now," she purred, pulling out her stele. She pressed the cold tip to his forearm where it had begun to go bloodshot, blackened veins staining his pale flesh, drawing a quick healing rune over the oozing hole where he had pressed the needle into his arm, "Where did we leave off, my king?"

_XOX_

Jonathan glared at the door, knowing that such a woman had so much gall that she would shove her prince from a room, that his father would allow it.

His pocket weighed heavily, and his hand came to rest over the vial he had stolen from his father's office some time back, beside the needle that held so many connotations and expectations, and was required to obey, regardless of his feelings.

Something moved behind him on the stairwell. Before he even heard her, Clary was on him, pressing herself against his back, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"Clary!" the boy cried, turning abruptly around. His small sister was quiet on her own without the aid of runes. With them, she would be damn near impossible to keep track of. It must have been how she had gotten so close to him now, so near that he could feel the soft, minty gale of her breath, could hear the thrum of her pulse beneath her flesh as it taunted him. It was like her body knew how to call to his, how to bring out a monster she had no idea she had on a short leash.

_**The thing about monsters on leashes, **_Jonathan thought with mild humor as he looked at the only family he would ever hope to claim, her hands seeking his, her softness stark against the hard lines he was so used to. He turned to look at her face, spinning in her arms to gaze at her. She was the one good thing in his life, the one consistency that never looked at him like a beast, and for her alone he would shoot himself up like an addict, like their father. Because it kept her safe... _**the worst thing, is that eventually, they turn on the hand that holds them. They will always choose freedom to captivity, no matter how lovely an existence.**_

"Have you seen Jace, Jonathan? I've looked everywhere, and I can't seem to-"

Yanking his hands from hers, he pinned her with a dark look that left her wilted, "What am I, Clarissa, his keeper? Sorry to disappoint, little sister, but it was not my turn to watch him."

The attack widened her eyes, and for a moment he felt regretful of hurting her before it ebbed to indifference. She would just have to get over it. The world did not revolve around Jace Herondale. But her's ought to revolve around him.

His young sister turned, walking away from him with a slight rotation to her hips as she floated silently away. He wasn't sure she could ever be noisy, even when she was mad, and the way she moved had him entranced again, in particular the way she seemed fuller now, softer. She always swayed more at the waist when she was mad. It must be a trait from their mother- she did the same thing, and if Jonathan put enough thought into it, he was sure he did the same thing. They were all of a similar bone structure- lithe yet deceptively muscular. The only difference was he would soon tower over both women.

With a snarl, he gave chase, knowing she would only get herself into trouble, rushing down the stairs after her.

_**XOX**_

Clarissa followed behind slightly, and Jace watched on from ten feet back as they descended the stairs. Maryse had been first to lead them from the room, and her son followed her anxiously, telling her everything she had missed at the manor while she had been away. It was good to see the once saddened boy so animated, even if he was clinging. Valentine watched on with a look of mild distaste, and his daughter followed him, her hair pulled back in a small twist, the curls cascading down over the pinning . Jace seemed to have missed some memo as well, as the four of them had dressed up for an occasion.

Clary had on a strapless dress that clung to her breast bone tightly, black as night, before sharply turning to fire where she walked, the movement of her swaying steps making it appear that the dress had caught fire in the light, flickering. Bands of silver wrapped around her biceps, clip and from the backs a sheet mantle of black hung over her back, and a silver circlet nestled across her forehead.

Maryse seemed prepared for such an occasion, as well. Gone was the warrioristic clothing, replaced by something over the top, an off the shoulder number that had appeared to be flame inspired as well, the collar a flash of pale gold fabric that wrapped around her throat, framing her elegantly displayed hair. It was corseted, pressing her breasts firmly upward, and the entire brocade was covered in a swirling flame pattern, gold swirls fading all over the red silk.

Her hand idled on the door, and looked back to how many now followed her. "Jace," her voice was soft, motherly as she turned her bright eyes to him, "Go get dressed. We will only be a moment, and you must be ready for Jonathan's birthday."

Shock overtook him, and Alec sheepishly smiled at him, "I left you an outfit in my room. I forgot to mention it to you earlier."

Nodding stiffly, the boy turned and bolted back up the staircase. Clary wanted to follow him, but if Jonathan found out she went with Jace after demanding her time alone, he would not be pleased with her at all. She had left him in his room, with a promise to fulfill by the end of the night. She remained despite her heart pulling from her breast, making her breathing erratic.

The door swung open then to reveal a large huddled mass of thin children, the group surrounded in a corner of the room by fifteen armed guards. They fell in respect, bowing to their leader as he and his family entered the room.

Only moments passed before Valentine decided that it was time to move forward with this lot.

"Feed them, Clarissa." Valentine commanded, turning around the table as he took in each child's worth, calculating their likelihood to survive. This might be very well the last meal many would consume, and in fact statistics said so. Out of the fifty brought here, they could only hope for fifteen of them to make it through in one piece, any more would be a miracle.

Nodding, the girl stepped up to the group, gathered the young children to her, ushering them to the large table that occupied the middle of the room. Most held onto each other, tears for lost parents bright in all of their eyes as they stumbled to take seats before platters set like a feast. One boy watched her through bug-like lenses, no tears breaking from his bright eyes. He was about her age, and his eyes spoke of intelligence. He didn't fear, he hated. He knew what was happening.

Laddling soup into each of the children's bowls, his eyes never left her, ever rebellious considering the situation he found himself in.

As she approached the boy, his hand steadied hers, and moved it on to the next child's bowl instead of his, his pale face glaring up at hers. Dropping the ladle, Clary jumped back, as the stew she was feeding them spilling across the table and floor. The commotion had all of the adult's attention immediately, and Alec moved toward the boy, intent on protecting the master's daughter

Her father halted his advance, and moved on his own towards the two. The human children were right to fear this man, his cold expression was enough to make her want to cry, and Clary loved her father. She couldn't help but gasp as he yanked the boy out of his seat, forcing him to stand and be assessed in a way that none of the other recruits had.

He seemed to find something in him, and he glanced to his daughter's hands momentarily where they grasped the boys corduroy jacket tightly, her small fists holding him fast right beneath her father's. She stood behind the boy, close to his form, willing him silent, to have a chance. His dark eyes darted to her face, scrunched up slightly from her forced obedience.

"Does he please you, this one, Clarissa?"

Her gaze did not leave that boy, but her silence was affirmation enough. With a nod, Morganstern released him, shoving him gently against his daughter's chest. She steeled as he came against her, holding both up right as he almost knocked them both over.

"What's your name boy?" Valentine stalked around him, weighing the boys worth. He was thin and tall, nothing much to look at, but the defiance in his eyes was an honorable quality. A stupid one, albeit, but one full of worth. If he was so full of conviction in their first meeting, he was sure that actual reason would have him a true enemy in no time.

With the darkest of looks she had seen turned on her father, he growled, "Simon Lewis, and I'll have you know that I don't make it a habit of consorting with Nephillim scum."

A hand cracked him across the face with the force he knew so intimately was associated with these people. His head snapped with the hand, and his vision blurred and blacked out in splotches, his glasses aerial and skidding across the tile before he could save them.

A girl, new to the group came to stand beside a boy who had followed the sweet looking red head in with their leader, obviously the glaring man's children's entourage. Her red coated manicured fingers smoothed an unseen wrinkle in the skirt of her just off-the shoulder red-orange, long sleeved dress that fell like a sheath to her knees, and jumped when the glasses hit her heels. Tentatively she looked around, before she crouched down, picking them up. She watched him with dark eyes, curious about what had encouraged the man's wrath this time. Her mouth fell open softly, full red lips trembling gently as she stood back up, tucking the glasses into the pocket placed at her hips, at either side of her waist. He turned to glance at her momentarily, before he adverted his eyes. She was just another Nephillim. They were all lovely, weren't they? Wearing the skin of heaven, they deceived and cut down any in their way.

It didn't matter that her beauty made his heart tighten painfully, she was still an enemy, just like the thin girl that grasped at his jacket sleeve, tight at the elbow. He could sense the tension in her arms, and wondered what_ she _had to fear.

"Your one with my household now, boy. Best you take a few moments and try to remember that for next time. I won't be so lenient should you speak to me or mine in that manner again."

With that the man nodded to another behind the door as he walked briskly out. A surge of Shadow hunters rushed forth past their leader in the doorway, like the morning tide around a boulder, seizing children from their chairs and dragging them off towards a door opposite the one Valentine stood occupied in.

Isabelle gave a sharp gasp as the movement made her leap away towards the wall as some children attempted a mad dash for escape, only to succumb to the superior speeds of the adults and Alec too, stepped aside, holding his sister by her shoulders, shielding her from the people that surged all around them. They had come for Jonathan's birthday dinner, knowing that they were expected to be here here. What they had walked into, however, was something farther than either imagined.

Her father paused, looking back with a wide smile that made her stomach flop. He often smiled that way right before Jace or Jonathan attacked each other and blood was spilled. Over his shoulder, he held the door frame and watched her for a moment longer before imparting fleeting knowledge to his daughter, might she take them to heart, "It's been long proven that those that have someone seeing to them, someone caring for them during such a dreadful time, tend to make it through in larger percentages than those that are struggling to hold on for themselves. You know what you must do."

He left without further ado, the air thick with her options. She could leave and let him die, or she could fight for him to live, but either way she would be the instrument which decided his survival. Cries and screams filled the air as one by one the young ones were snatched up, and Clary was shoved to the side as one small girl darted away, forcing her hand. She moved forward, rushing the brown haired boy and scooping him up into her arms as she ran with the current of adults with her charge neatly with her.

The boy fought her only momentarily before accepting his fate, clinging onto the brave girl. She was beautiful, Simon acknowledged, and the thin amber and silver circlet that rested on her upper forehead accented the lovely gold flecks in her green eyes, and she was determined, so much so that he only had hope he would get to see the cause, and followed her breathlessly away, clinging to her forearm. She was strong, an attribute to the angel that fathered her, he supposed, and decided that if any of these people would hurt him, it was least likely that she would, the girl that fought for him.

It was no wonder that the children on the streets glared at her with such hate, the way they were treated. It was bad enough to be stolen from their families, but it never ended there. Statistics said that one in ten would survive the night in tact. More might live, but their existence could be bleak and painful, to the point that most would be put out of their misery by a firing squad hungry for death. They wouldn't know how many of this lot would make it until probably a week or so. But it was the first twenty four hours that made a difference after they were forced to choke down the life water of the Mortal Cup.

The room that the children were herded into was the Grand Ballroom, a magnificent room with a vaulted ceiling, a large crystal chandelier hanging from a spiral that dripped from the vault, looking like a water droplet about to fall. The light from the candles sent a glorious array of colors across the room, swaying gently with the wind from the window that had been opened about twelve feet in the air that went all the way around the room slightly over a third up the wall, casting the sun's setting radiance across the intricate wall-work. Clary always found this room a wonder, and often thought about the disuse of it. True, there were few reasons to celebrate that her father acknowledged, but this room begged to be used, to be remembered. The young woman in her longed to see this room at its splendid height, brimming with people in silks and satin and chiffon, moving in unison. It was, after all what this room was always meant to be, not a sick room.

Beds lined across the room in a grid like formation, cold and separated from each other by a four foot aisle and one after another, the Mortal cup was forced to their lips, and one after the other, they fell beneath its spell, thrown into the next mattress for the long haul, adults handcuffing them to the bed frames.

Clary had never had observed the phenomenon of the change, only knew it from the small details she had heard. She couldn't believe that she would have to partake, that her hands would hold the legendary cup and force this life on another human being.

Simon watched her, as the screaming subsided and the children were dragged once more from the only exit to be put into their own beds, handcuffed to the iron bed frames. All were accounted for now, and only Simon remained untouched. He took a tentative step back, suddenly afraid of the small redheaded girl as a man with chocolate red hair passed the cup into her small hands. Would she force it on him, as the adults had done with the others? He couldn't hope to be spared, it wasn't in their nature.

The children all moved in unison, it was true, the agony taking hold at just about the same time, racking them all the same in seizing fits, and they writhed like a sea of the dying. Many were already choking on vomit, some turning to find an adult to care for them, to embrace them. Most found nothing but emptiness to reassure them, but some, the more magnificent of the children, were seen to.

Her stern, soft voice shocked him, as she turned her back to him. "Come with me."

As she turned away, her flame colored dress swished and appeared to catch fire, turning red in the light of the sun as it touched her, her small form pivoting and gliding away, and the young boy followed like a lost lamb, stumbling behind her, his hand on the wall as he rushed after her up the stairs, "Will it hurt?"

Clary seemed to have lost her voice as she led him along corridors and down empty hallways, luxuriously furnished the deeper they went, "Most likely."

Her voice seemed dark, foreboding to her and she hesitated and turned, feeling like she was making a mess of things, "I will see you through, though, Simon. I don't make it a habit of breaking my word."

The girl saw him to a luxurious room, the walls papered in a brilliant blue Gothic pattern, stark black molded forms texturing the smooth surface. A large bed sat with a matching black and blue bedspread, and he mildly wondered who's room this might have been until the slight woman shut the door behind him. She moved smoothly to the bedside table, setting the cup down preciously, and gestured him to the neat bed before she moved to the fireplace, cranking the flue open beside the outcropping in the brick wall before igniting the stacks of logs already sitting in the rack.

Simon watched her, silently calculating everything. She made no movement against him, and when she turned again, she looked somber, dragging a high backed red velvet chair to the bedside and settled into it.

"Aren't you going to force me to drink from that cup like your people did with all those other kids?"

"No need." Her voice rang with finality, as she leaned back, folding her knees regally. She looked every bit the monarch here, as she regarded him, her hands folding against her lap and he realized that his initial assessment had been correct- this _was_ her home, which meant that man had been her father, and perhaps this was her room as well. Tilting his face, Simon looked at her with confusion pulling his forehead taught, and Clary softly smiled, reassuringly at him, but it didn't quite reach her eyes, "You will either drink of the cup now or you will be forced to later. Or perhaps you will be killed in the slaughter tomorrow morning when they find you still in tact, because you rebutted our king."

She shifted from the seat to the mattress, and patted the spot beside her, pulling back the blankets, "No, I will not force your hand. Not ever, Simon Lewis. But what I will do is tell you the truth- it is a much better choice to take my offer, my kindness, as no one else will be likely to help you now that you've made a stand before my father."

Her bright eyes watched him in the faint light of the fire, and Simon knew that this girl spoke no lies. Coming to sit beside her, he raised the glass, his lips jumping at the cool touch as the freezing liquid poured over his tongue, down his throat.

Clary's hands shot forward, lifting the cup for him, and their eyes held true as he took in what he would before he began choking, the clear fluid spilling down his chin to stain the dark tee-shirt he wore, and he turned abruptly, retching across the plush red carpet. The girl came up behind him, placing the cup back on the table, embracing him from behind as her hands splayed through his wavy brown hair lovingly.

Often when she was sick, her mother had done this. She remembered how encouraging it was, how safe it felt, to have someone embrace you in these small, dark moments. Soon, his breathing grew heavy and the shaking began, seizing up his entire body. He sweat, profusely, and Clary rolled him back into the covers, settling the fabric over him as he fell to slumber made torturous by the changes ripping through his body.

A noise at the door made her attention divert, and she pulled away to leave, but as she went to stand away from him, his hand apprehended the fabric that draped behind her, holding her close. She knew what he wanted, and despite what he might have thought, she hadn't wanted to leave him quite yet.

Instead, she was forced to remain. Looking back as the knocking became much more intense, she called out softly, "Come in!"

XOX

Jonathan had looked everywhere for his sister. She hadn't been at dinner either, and his father had been absent as well from the small feast. Isabelle had alluded that they were perhaps busy with the new recruits, but he had found it doubtful. His father often abandoned his responsibility of him for something better that came along. Clary's absence was what really bothered him, however. The Lightwoods had been charming enough, and Jace had been his usual, handsome self, but he wished for his sister's company. As each silence descended upon them, he could hear the screaming cries coming from another room, and every time, his chest tightened, thinking that one could be here.

He had excused himself to search for her after the third course, snagging two slices of the strawberry-covered vanilla cake as he began his search in all of her usual haunts.

Every time he came up empty handed, his tight chest hurt him all the more as panic gave way. Where could she be. As he passed his bedroom door on the way to her bedroom next door, he noticed that it had been shut up tight. He had left the door ajar when he had left, knowing that they were going to have to be quiet.

His face contorted as he heard a noise within, and he knocked rapidly, upset that someone had gone into his room without his consent. No one answered, so he knocked harder this time, more demanding.

A soft acknowledgement murmured from the other side, his sister's voice, and he shoved the door open, intent on making a point. The room within was dark, lit only by the firelight. She looked lovely, just as she had the first time she had worn the dress he had bought her, and the flame caught her on fire, illuminating her eyes in the only way he knew they could. Her lips parted, as she stumbled silently on her words, the seductress in his bed, and he approached, abandoning his irritation.

As soon as his black eyes laid on her in bed with another boy against her back, his heart snapped, and cold filled his entire being. Gone was that pain in his chest, gone was the anxiety, carving out room for something much sinister.

Jonathan snarled at her, showing his distaste as he tossed the cake onto the bedside table, "I hope he was an_** excellent **_fuck, little sister."

And with that he rushed out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

XOX

He was slipping, and fast. She had no idea what to do, only that in a few short hours his life would snuff away and there was little to do. Without thinking of the consequences, she snatched her brother's stele and marked a perseverance rune on his shoulder, the symbol much like a fleeing man to her as she cut it into him, watching the blood swell up under his skin under her inexperienced hand. The thick crimson welled, dripping languidly down his arm, pooling in his up turned hand from where she had taken his pulse, and as she watched it, Clary missed the darkening of the edges of the cut, the dark muting the colors.

Live... she hoped, she prayed, putting all of her will into him.

His breath was shallower than it ought to be.

Leaning in, she innocently hugged herself against the boy. If the cup did not take, what she just did...it might turn him into some monster.

She screamed when his arm wrapped around her waist weakly, holding her against him.

His eyes opened, staring blankly at the white ceiling, just as the fever began to break, leaving him frozen inside. Simon's arms tightened around her, banding her to his side as he rolled, intent on sleeping somewhat uncomfortably through the night.

Clary sighed, touching his head softly as she laid her head to rest beside his, watching him silently as his eyes flickered behind his long lashes.

_**This was going to be a long night... **_she found herself thinking, as she settled down for the long haul, his head pillowed against her arm.

XOX

His fist slammed on the door. He was beyond furious, the rage filled him entirely, and it made him feel better, knowing he would take it out on someone else she loved.

How dare she? Didn't she understand what her promises meant to him? No one came to the door, and so Jonathan invited himself in, pressing into the dark room. A head of golden curls laid splayed out across the dark sheets, and the boy softly panted as he slept, his lips slight agape as his breath came in as a soft snore. It was cold in the room, and the boy had turned in on himself, his hands grasping his pillow and blankets to him.

If he couldn't destroy one, then he would gladly destroy the other. He had sworn to protect Clary, but Jace was something entirely different- nothing protected him.

Wrathfully, he yanked the angelic boy from his slumber. Jace was late in waking, confused about what had attacked him. His hands flew in defense still, swinging to protect himself, clawing Jonathan down the arm. His vision focused minutely, and he breathed out, confusion ebbing away as he realized who hefted him from the bed, "Jonathan... what are you-"

The other boy socked him in the face, knocking him into the armoire that housed his few outfits and fewer possessions. He stood, dazed, leaning heavily against the wood chest, and as the other boy rounded on him again, he dived downward, dodging lower than he needed to, and his feet took him out by the legs. Jonathan collapsed on top of him and his knees caught the other boy in the chest.

Furious, the two scrambled on their own, circling each other before they crashed together once more, grappling as they had done when they were young boys. Snarling, Jonathan pushed one of their arms upward, and they both slipped, crumbling against one another. Jace's mouth moved in surprise, lips moving against his seductively. Jonathan's hands released him, slamming him to the wall as he continued the kiss, his eyes drifting closed.

Shocked, he pulled away slightly, his breathing erratic as he panted over the other boy's flushed lips. He had never been kissed before, not like that. His mouth was on fire, and something in him was tightening, ready to snap.

Blood rushed through his ears, and the boy leaned foward again, desperate for the feeling again, pressing his lips against Jace's, easing the beast within. If Clary wasn't the only one to soothe this monstrocity that ruled over him...

The golden haired boy gave a yelp of suprise, and Jace tried to pull sharply away, shifting as he attempted to slide off of the wall that Jonathan had pressed him into. The elder boy had him efficiently pinned however, and when he did get away, Jonathan simply just slammed him against the brown wall again, hips crashing against his in a way that made a violent chill run up his spine. Scratch that, it was his hand, carressing its way up to cup the base of his head

"Come on..." Jonathan whispered breathily, his hand creeping up to cup the boy's occipital bone in his skull, fingers stroking the gentle junture of head and neck. His lips came to pout right above his, and Jace could feel the soft wispy air from the other boy's mouth panting over his as his finger came to caress Jace's full lips. His hips shifted against him, anchoring them both to the wall, and his arm caged his face as he splayed his hand over the golden head, "It's my birthday..."

_**Authors Note: YAAAAAYTTT! Chapter 2 everybody! Thank you sooo much for reading! On to reviewers!**_

_** CoffeeLovingOtaku: Clary is 7 (born in August) when she and Jace first meet, Jace turns in 8 (January), and I'm gonna pitch that Jonathan/Sebastian is 8 going on 9, if not 9 already, SOOOOO That would make Alec 9 as well, (He's only a few months older than Seb.) and Isabelle would be 6 (Born in December), just a few months shy of Clary. They come back together for Jace's 9th birthday, the year before he will begin training for being a Shadowhunter.**_

_**L.V. (keeps editing out your name): Thank you so much dearie!**_

_**And yes...yes... YES... I will be shipping Sebclace here. The kiss at Clary's birthday was more innocent than it probably came out as, but I want to emphasize how much it bothered Jace, even if he doesn't understand why, but the kiss was intimate, not passionate. Jonathan (I keep wanting to call him Sebastian so desperately, but that entity wouldn't exist yet, would it?) and Jace are just old enough to have sexual desires (I know, awkward considering they're still kids) whereas Clary is not, and won't be willing to return such feelings for at least 2-4 years. Despite this, they themselves are affectionate, and are striving for female attention, and oh look, the only girls around are Clary and Isabelle.**_

_**Preemptive strikes: After the time jump in this chapter, it starts in the October before Jace's 10th birthday, particularly the day before Jonathan's 10th birthday.**_

_**Adele Fairchild and Granville Fairchild (Jocelyn's parents) are still alive. With no need to appear dead, Valentine never had to kill them, nor Michael Wayland or his son. So they're all running around still, doing Shadow hunter things.**_

_**Valentine can pretty much assess the groups brought in and figure out who will live by now. The general statistic is one in 10, but because they probably came from the Vampire's feeding source, they're better off, probably stronger because they're used to being used. This also explains part of their fear- they were so used to the Vampires telling them of the big bad Nephillim, that when they were captured, they just become terrified, but they're just kids, they can't fight back against adults. Out of the group culled, Simon was probably the oldest.**_

_**Alec and Jace front: I can't help myself. I like the dynamic between them, and the bittersweet romance from Alec's side pretty much makes Malec so much better.**_

_**Jace and Jonathan front: As I said earlier, this FF will be Sebclace. Which means that there will be some Sebastian x Jace in here, or JonathansX2**__**. There is going to be romance between all three of them. Sorry if this is a shock to any readers.**_

_**Any questons, hit me up. Once again, I thank everyone for reading, anonymously or not, you are my fuel. The more response this gets, the more I want to get it out to you guys.**_

_**Share the Love!**_

_**Review, Follow, Fave!**_

_**Till Next Time**_

_**TAORI**_


	3. Have a Secret, Will You Keep it?

_**Have a Secret, Will You Keep It?**_

Jace breathed in like he had broken the surface of a great lake, struggling for air as asphyxiation swept over him. The other boy kissed him so fiercely he had barely enough time to gasp for breath between crashing lips and biting teeth, scorching hands stripping him bare.

Between milliseconds of air, the Morgenstern son could feel his partner murmur his name into his open mouth as his tongue cut off his complaints. Jace's strong hands tightened in the collar of his shirt, loosening it open by force alone and was rewarded by a hand that wrapped loosely around his throat, directing him gently.

Jonathan shifted him expertly back towards the bed, unwilling to break them apart from one another. His hands feverishly brushed down the other boy's chest, plucking the buttons open as he went farther and further south. His hips bullied Jace's, and as he advanced on the boy; Jace willingly fell in line, stumbling backwards as the taller boy prowled after him hungrily, a game of cat and mouse. His top fell open, and the other boy brushed it further apart, until it fell halfway down his arms, leaving him bare to the waist. It gave him a few moments of peace as the dark-eyed boy gave appreciation a moment's pause before he pursued him again. They fell in a tangled mess, arms and legs crashing together as they came into each other, curves and angles melding into one another as Jonathan kissed Jace senseless, pinning him effectively down with his shifting hips and restless hands.

Jonathan desperately wanted to not scare the smaller boy off. He was trying to advance slowly with him, and though he was far from broaching the subject of sex, or wanting it from the boy for that matter, the heated kissing had him bothered, and he knew he was getting aggressive with his soft touches and open- ended kisses.

No one but Clary ever made him feel this way, and he wouldn't have thought that this boy would soothe him so. In truth, Jace often times had riled him in ways that drove him to go and beat the shit out of servant or whatever else he could happen to find that wouldn't fight back, that didn't matter to him. To know he could have the opposite effect, to give him such clarity... it was an amazing discovery.

The white haired boy touched him, groaning deeply, a guttural sound that sounded positively feral and animalistic. Impure thoughts raced through his mind, making his heart race as Jonathan's lips crushed themselves against his throat, teasing his darting tongue over his Adam's apple, and clarity settled over him long enough for him to put everything back together, and reality crashed hard around him.

"I don't like boys!" His cry was sharp, much more so than he intended it to be, breathily rushed but perhaps desperation to relinquish that knowledge had rushed him to harshly deliver it and he had no other choice.

Pulling back, Jonathan's face scrunched up, and he looked at Jace with his confusion reflecting back to him in his black, black-

Looking closer, Jace saw a change in his eyes that wasn't there before, green ebbing around the deep black pits, a slight change that isolated his pupil from the iris. There were flecks in his eyes, too, lightening the darkness in them. He was lost in observation until Jonathan laughed, "Neither do I."

"We ought to stop then..." Jace reasoned, leaning into the pillows around his head. The boy pulled away briefly, and Jace felt bad that he might have hurt the other man's feelings. His eyes betrayed nothing as the dark orbs searched, probing for answers Jace was certain not to be able to give him properly.

"I won't hurt you..." his voice broke, and in that moment, the pale boy hated himself deeply, as his hand came up, brushing the soft golden curls from his face, "I- I... I... just want... this..."

His hand splayed over Jace's bare chest above his heart, the fingertips curling slightly as if to grasp the thrumming organ, and it rushed against the caress, trying its damndest to escape the cage of his ribs. He leaned on to his forearm, pressing his lips back to the left clavicle where the pulse jumped so lovely to the surface, right above his hand.

"Give it to me... I want this, your heart, true." He kissed him again and again, regretless, breathlessly stealing away his sanity once more, "I won't force you, but until you can truly give me what I desire, what I need, return to me. I won't abuse your fealty."

_**XOX**_

A cold breeze whipped around the room, and a dark haired woman looked to the dying fire, the coals doing very little to shed light or warmth in the dark of the night, making her wish she had more forethought in this lapse of judgment. Her hand searched, blindly along the bottom of the bed as she clutched the sheet to her bare, prickling flesh. Her fingers caught the edge of fabric, and with a tug she claimed the thickly woven blanket that folded across the base of the man's bed and whipped her wrist sharply, unfurling it so that it draped over them more comfortably as she settled against Valentine's side once more, melding into the warm flesh of the man she had loved most in this world.

Maryse turned, watching the man as he slumbered, his face so serene, so like the boy she had come to love so many years ago. She wondered how long it had been now since he had let himself fall under this deep a sleep.

She had always loved him, truly they all had. Maryse knew she would lay down everything she had for this man, ever since he had extended the hand of friendship to that young, lonely outcast that no one would speak to. _**The pariah's**_** sister**… She couldn't escape the disgrace her elder brother had brought down on her family's name, and despite how brightly a star she shone, no one cared to see the brilliance beneath knowing where she came from.

_**Stock that valued mundanes above their own kind**__. _They were Shadow hunters, after of Nephilim, and to weaken the line was blasphemous. As it were, Shadow hunters were diminishing in number, weakening in strength. They didn't need something else to worry about taking away their lifestyle.

She had been so dreadfully upset when he had picked Jocelyn, plain and ordinary Jocelyn, to stand at his side. It had been assumed that he, such a magnificent man, would desire a woman of equal caliber, and was crushed to find he didn't have the same high belief in her abilities that she did.

Not that she didn't try her best to prove it to him, and everyone else for that matter. She supposed that's what made Robert fall in love with her for the first time, that desperate need to be acknowledged, and he was so willing to love her that she had let him. It was better to be loved and give half a heart than to be left all alone, wasn't it?

Her husband had followed her blindly and accepted all the dark natured acts she would commit, faithfully supporting her time and time again. It disgusted her sometimes- the way they had fell in line, just so she might get the recognition that might leave her fruitless. They committed many crimes that haunted her when she went to sleep against their own kind, against their charge, mankind.

She couldn't bring herself to regret the pain she brought on the Downworlders.

But she had been alone all this time. She desired a heart that stood so far above her, like an illustrious star that rose up in the sky and though she reached for it with all her might, she always tumbled down, farther away. She should have looked to the man beside her, embraced him and his faithful love that he didn't force upon her. Instead, she turned him from her, content to stand in the shadow of a woman she thought beneath her, although once her friend, hoping that one day she might fall and the light would be hers alone.

How naïve she had been. Even gone, Jocelyn still had the heart, the love that she desired so desperately.

But she would remain, yearning for his affections, and accepting what he gave to her in the form of acceptance, allowing him to destroy her piece by broken piece and taking everything from her, because perhaps one day, she would bask in his light and know her true worth.

_**XOX**_

Gently, light cascaded across the bedspread, the two slumbering boys clutching on to one another, content and unaware of anything but the peace that had settled across them. Neither had slept as well as they had that night, entwined legs and bruised lips left warm by the residual heat between them and the blanket that was haphazardly thrown over them.

A knock came at the door, and it opened without a moment's pause to reveal Isabelle, her face flushed and still in the wrinkled red orange dress from the night before. She came in without invitation, shutting the door behind her with a soft thudding noise, the lock clicking in its housing, "Jace... Jace have you seen Jona-"

The sound of the door had woken the golden-haired boy up and the face propped up groggily, looking to the shocked intruder. She choked on her voice, and surely she must have seen that he did indeed know where the Morgenstern boy had run off to. Still in his rumpled clothes from the day before as well, Jonathan had curled against Jace's side, clinging to the opened pajama top, holding him close.

"I'm so sorry, Jace." The girl quickly rushed towards the door, her hand fumbling the door handle in a manner that made her miss turning it completely in her haste and so the door failed to open. "Let him know his father's looking for him," she rapidly breathed, and she was gone before he could explain, or formulate a plan of attack to silence this. He'd been caught in bed with another boy, another Morgenstern child, and though nothing had happened with either this would get around quick that he had gave no differential treatment to either- he was just a whore.

The children of this family just had perverse tendencies. It wasn't him, it couldn't be. But all the same, he had to silence Isabelle before she ran her mouth to the wrong person. He could only imagine Valentine's response to this.

The dark eyes of the boy beside him struggled to open, wearily watching him as he started to get up. With a soft noise, he let go of the unbuttoned shirt, alerting Jace to his consciousness. Turning, he looked at him, smiling weakly. Half asleep, Jonathan was quite endearing, soft, dark eyelashes fluttering tiredly against his cheek, only rising to half mass as he looked over the expanse of bared flesh exposed to him, exhausted contemplation in his soft, comforted expression. He couldn't throw blame on him, not entirely at least. Everyone wants to feel loved and between the two of the Morgenstern siblings, he doubted that Clary got the short end of the stick. The brother didn't ask for affection, he stole it, like he was a man starving to death and only after he had taken his fill did he beg for him to allow it to continue. Now, the boy seemed perfectly normal, albeit still the twisted son of a bitch he had known all his life, and for once in his life Jace thought that he finally understood what exactly went through his head. He wondered also if that was why they had butted heads so as children- Jace received the love and affection that Valentine's rightful son should have received.

Smiling back at him, Jace brushed the short, cropped white hair back to where it ought to have been, the choppy, full locks a floating mass swished towards his left ear standing slightly on end, but still styled enough to be acceptable.

He responded in a way that Jace expected, letting his eyes drift up to the face that smiled so brightly at him, to the lips that pulled back, still bruised blue from the night before, into what could be considered a lopsided grin. Jonathan leaned in, and pressed his thin lips to Jace's, a silent apology for the damages he had done to the full mouth. Jace didn't respond, simply letting the boy beg for his forgiveness in silence, thinking that to be all the answer he ought to need. After all, Jonathan hadn't asked him anything all night, he had simply taken it. His forgiveness, he would have to work for.

The boy blinked up at him, confused with a fairly discomforted expression that made him seem uncomfortable somehow, but before Jace could ask him what was wrong, the boy pulled away, picking up his abandoned jacket from the floor, trying his best to right his clothes enough.

Without further expression to Jace, he left with a tension in his shoulders as he barked out yet another order, "Get dressed. We're late for the Voyance ceremony."

Jace looked to the window, and saw that indeed it was late in the day, the sun having already risen to almost mid-sky, and rushed about the room trying to put himself into some semblance of order.

_**XOX**_

Alec never considered himself a good looking man, but standing in front of the mirror, he felt like something was staring back at him, something more. Dressed in new gears, a long sleeved cowl necked sweater settling under the tight vest he'd strapped on, he held onto his forearm, turning as he looked at his stark reflection, awed by the strength he saw in himself. He was still the same Alec as he had been the night before, but he knew something was about to change drastically, for the better. He glared back himself, larger than life, and he almost couldn't believe this was really him.

The door behind him slammed open, and he could see his sister, running ragged in the mirror. He smelled her on the wind as well, the smell of ripe pear and vanilla, her perfume of the week, wafting in on the current she brought with her. He looked up from admiring his reflection to stare curiously at her in the polished glass.

"Alec," Isabelle cried out, half out of breath the other half exhilarated, her chest heaving as she leaned heavily against the door frame. He could see she was biting her bottom lip, a sure sign that she couldn't contain herself if he couldn't see the way she lightly bounced with her news. She hadn't had this juicy of gossip in years, not since the last time they had visited here when she had first stumbled on the affair her mother had hidden so well. "You'll never guess what I just saw!"

Alec turned to look at her, hearing the magnificent glimmer in her voice. She looked so excited, that as he turned, he gave her an expecting look, waiting for her to just get on with it; Isabelle was never one to be known to hold her tongue, and with her being so patient, he could only expect it to be especially good. Why else would she savor the moment, if not to make the story all the more glorious?

The boy made a motion to urge her on, and she complied happily, her arms moving erratically as she told the tale of how she had been cornered in the hallway by a _**very **_irate Valentine and her mother _(they appeared to have had another spat again, and Alec didn't doubt that his mother had started it by having tried to console the man)_ was tight lipped and agitated. He had apparently looked for his son where he could think of, and did not find the boy anywhere, leaving it with Isabelle to deliver the news that he was in fact being summoned, some affair or another, which Alec knew immediately to be the commencement ceremony the three boys would participate in that very day. Each boy was meant to be marked alone, a quiet affair between family and the Silent Brother whom would give them their first mark.

Obviously Jonathan was meant to go first, the master of the house's son. That he should be missing on this morning did not bode well for him.

She went on to explain, with great detail, the adventure she had, looking in all of the darkened corners of the house until coming into Jace's room two doors down, only to find the two wrapped up with one another. By the end of her story, Alec felt physically ill, shaken to the core. Jace and Jonathan… his crush and his best friend, his would- be, could- be parabatai had… _**slept together?**_ How was that even possible?

The hand that wrapped itself around his abdomen tightened, and to stop the outward onslaught, he covered his mouth with a stiff gauntlet, trying his best to stomach the bile that churned deep within him_**. This wasn't happening, it couldn't be….**_

But it was, and reality left Alec broken inside.

Isabelle shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the imaged running through her head. She couldn't stop it though; she kept seeing the two boys in bed with each other. The idea of it had her shaking with excitement- it was such a scandal that she-

A sharp noise broke through everything she was, shattering the images that played in her mind like glass, and Isabelle looked quickly with wide eyes to her brother, whose fist had gone straight through the floor length, free standing mirror. He trembled mercilessly, and from across the room she could see blood, bright as roses, dripping languidly from the glass that embedded in his knuckles and palm, dropping like a leaky faucet to splash on the ivory plush carpet. With a cry, she rushed her elder brother, hugging his shaking hand towards her, as she looked at his painful expression. Deft fingers unhooked the taught fist, surveying the damages as a scowl settled over her normally lax features.

This wasn't about her this time. It was about Alec. His hand tightened in hers as she looked dartingly from her fingertips plucking larger glass chunks out to the face that twisted her insides, his face skewed up in a manner that showed deeper pain than what he had done to himself when he punched the mirror. She regretted blabbing to her brother now about what she had seen, even if she didn't understand exactly why. She would question him later, when the wounds were less gaping, when he would be more willing to expose himself to her. Silently, the dark eyed girl focused on healing, a trait she was fairly bad at, and not for the first time in her life, she wished she could keep her mouth shut.

It had been her fault, after all, that her father had left. She ought to know better by now when to keep her mouth shut.

"I love him, Iz. I know I shouldn't, I know it could get me killed, but I can't help it." Alec's voice shocked her more than the arms that drew her to him. It was so raw that it left him hoarse, broken sounding in his weakness. She swore she could hear unfallen tears in his tenor, and it twisted like a knife in her gut when his arms tightened around her shoulders, melding her against him as he began to shake harder, unhinged.

When he had settled against his sister, Alec couldn't help but break down in the warmth, the comfort of her embrace, and the hard tremor that rocked him was consistent of that of an earthquake. Everything fell around him and shattered, leaving a broken wasteland with only Isabelle to cling to. He loved Jace with everything he had in him; he knew that with all of his being. A year with the boy and you couldn't help but fall for him. He was so beautifully broken that he had no idea that pieces were meant to be put together, and anyone willing to force their assistance… well, Alec was certain they would all find themselves where he was now.

Isabelle froze, the words hitting her fully, as her hand tightened in the dark, jagged locks of her elder brother. She refused to ask which of the two boys he had meant, because it didn't matter. Either one would get him killed the moment Valentine heard word of this. She tried to convince herself that it was noncommittal fancy, that this would soon fade and her brother would be in the clear, but she knew too well that Alec was too intelligent for his own good. If he were admitting this aloud now, she knew there was no shadow of doubt in his mind that this was reality. He would have already made certain there was no way out before backing himself into a corner like this. Isabelle would have to keep her brother's secret then, support him in the years to come. After all, what else could they do if the two sons of their monarch had bound themselves together? No matter how she looked at it, her brother would only be agonizing over this until he found the strength to get over it; he couldn't stand in Jonathan's way if Jace was what he wanted, and unless he was willing to risk the threat that their father imposed, Alec couldn't even tattle and hope that the act would dissolve this fiasco.

Pulling back, she looked up to her brother's bright blue eyes, nudging her forefinger across his bottom lid, pressing the stream of tears away, "We best get downstairs, Alec. One of you three has to become a Shadow hunter today."

Her smile was false, but the attempt made him smile glumly at her all the same. Together they retreated from the room, leaving the broken mirror where it laid, sure that Valentine would hear about this later, but by then, they would be ready.

XOX

The turnout was what anyone could expect it to be. Jace looked about the room and estimated maybe thirty could have been invited, but it looked like less were admitted into the room. When he entered, no one even turned to glare at him as he had thought; all eyes were well fixed on the pale boy and the Silent Brother before him as they looked to take in each other's worth. He found Clary easily enough, she always out- showed everyone, and today was no different. Though she had been awake most of the night, she had managed to make herself presentable, and had even dragged her newly- turned charge along with her. He stood, groggily, in what appeared to be something of Jonathan's or Alec's old clothes, a long- sleeved cotton top that hung loosely against his thin frame. He appeared hung over, limply standing behind the girl and if he wasn't mistaken, smelled like muck when he came to stand beside Clary, who did in fact acknowledge his lateness, as she nudged him with her hip and a well- placed glare over her shoulder, her arms coming to lay across her chest…

Well at least most people had missed his late entrance.

Jonathan stood proudly, his hand extended as the Silent Brother wrapped his cold and stiff bony fingers around his small wrist. The stele came down upon the back of his hand, and he felt discomfort in the silent torture, fire eating hungrily at him from the inside, and his arm jerked violently back. Luckily, the Brother was prepared, and his mark stayed true and firm, the stele still buried in his flesh. He wanted nothing more than to cry out. He noticed his angel boy enter the room, coming to stand beside Clary in her knee length, button-down blue dress, the petticoat beneath giving her a sharp doll-like appearance what with her tight ringlet curls and bell- shape. Together, they looked like toys, a toy- soldier and a porcelain doll, and the sweet reality that they were his toys, made a wicked smile spread across his face as he bore down on the pain.

His hand tightened into a bone-cracking hold as the stele burned away the smooth flesh of his left hand, the blood in his veins aflame. His young mind could imagine no worse pain than this ought- to- be- effortless rite of passage and when the man finally released him, he yanked back from the man, cradling the cracking, tender red flesh against his chest, rubbing at his forearm where the pain ebbed away as he retreated towards his siblings.

His father stopped his advanced, however, and drew the boy into conversation with other adults that must have been fairly important, leaving him to stare longingly at the pair of heavenlier children surrounded by a mob of just- sub par people. They shone most brightly surrounded by this filth, and he watched with a baited breath as she waved Jace with her towards him instead.

Jonathan's pain bothered Jace in a way he didn't really understand, and as he looked around the room to the other spectators, he caught the gaze of Alec across the hall with his sister, silently watching him. He looked upset as well, his expression one of deep, hidden pain boiling to the surface, and as their eyes met, he turned away so sharply, that Isabelle looked to him, as if he could express in some mute way what had happened. Her dark eyes expressed her distaste, and she took Alec's hand, calming him and taking a front.

So _**it was**_ something he had done then. Her thumb rubbed soothingly over the dark splash on her brother's hand, the mark he had already received, and Jace wondered if that might be the cause. He had missed his friend's marking ceremony. Regretfully, too, he might add. Jace had always intended to be last, but his presence was supposed to be there for both of his friends' ceremonies.

Jace felt wretched, and would have approached if not for the dark look the woman gave him, her eyes brightly resistant to his charms.

Turning, she removed her attention from one of the two boys that had hurt her older brother, and tried to distract herself with the people that had floated from Jonathan to Alec, congratulating him as well.

Jace stood idle off on his own, uncertain of what would happen and what he should do. He still had three months until he turned ten, so he could push off his first marks for a while if he wanted to renege on his agreement with Valentine- and did he really want to train with Alec and Jonathan anyway? With the polarity of the couple's emotions, he wasn't sure he would be able to survive the two. As he came to the decision to rejoin his family, and push off this nonsense for at least the moment so he could think things out more clearly, a cold wave settled across his shoulders to wrap itself around his heart.

He looked about himself and only then became aware that Clary had gone from his side, taking her pet with her to enter the circle forming around Jonathan and his father, effectively abandoning him. They surged, swallowing her up and he could hear her softly giggle as they mobbed her.

_**Jace Herondale…**_ Golden eyes shot to the source, a man in a bone white gown, his hand outstretched towards him_**, **_beckoning; _**it is not in such a great man to shy from a small challenge. Why put off what you are already so ready for?**_

Mutely, Jace approached the man proudly, his head held high and proud. His mouth fell open, ready to speak when the cool, prodding feeling filled him, and he knew the man was somehow inside of him, and that speaking was a moot point.

He thought of the angry, dueling set of boys, and the way their temperaments were clashing on the battle ground that he seemed to always be standing on. He reasoned that in only seven months after his tenth birthday, Clary too would be ten, and there would be another ceremony to commence her into their world. His reasons were not solid enough, and he felt like a petulant child as he held out each excuse, for that's all they were, only to find them too hollow to present to the holy man.

_**You would wait for her before progressing?**_ The man looked to Clary, and Jace looked to her as well, all brilliant smiles and the center of attention, despite it being her brother's day. She was always the center of his world, always his glowing star. _**I thought you the hero, Jace Herondale, but I might have been mistaken. You may not want to save the world, just the girl, but you would do best, I feel, to grow among those two then their sisters. After all, you cannot be the savior of those that are stronger than you. It is simply not the way of the world. The strong protect the weak.**_

His hand shook as the Silent Brother probed mutely at his mind, searching, as the cool, significantly larger palm rose to sit comfortably at Jace's heart level, asking him to submit. He understood without really wrapping his head around it that the monk had filled his head with enough self-doubt that he would let the currant take him where it would lead him, and he set his left hand in the older man's grasp, letting the cool fingers wrap languidly around his offered flesh. Looking from the hands clasped before them to the cloaked face, Jace caught sight of pale lips beneath the bone colored hood that normally hid all of the features, the mouth full and unhindered by the traditional threads that sewed them shut.

_**Do not fear what is to come, Jace Herondale...**_Though the man did not speak, the feeling of his voice ripped through him. It was unnerving, but somehow Jace got the feeling that they all were, and he was glad that the monk tried to ease his conscious. _**You are the strongest of those that stand before you, and even those that might come after you.**_

With no other prelude to the ceremony, he brought the stele in his other hand down on the back of Jace's left hand, moving in a smooth gesture that left Jace with no choice or way out, and before he knew it, the mark had been made and done with, a stark eye cut into his hand that appeared like it was just drawn on with a sharpie. The act took his breath away, the feeling of the stele bittersweet as it swept languidly across his flesh so that when it finally pulled away he regretted the loss; had he any choice, he would have lived in that feeling, greatly enjoying the feeling of the flesh cauterizing into a scar he would bare all his life. He looked at the mark in awe, touching gently and then with greater pressure as he realized it felt like nothing was there.

His golden eyes darted to the Silent Brother, whose face had pulled upward slightly, a barely recognizable smile as he nodded to Jace and took his leave. Jace wondered, looking around the room, how many had stood witness to his mark, and how many had no attention for him after Jonathan had been marked.

_**XOX**_

"I'll have my glasses back now." A soft, demanding voice sounded behind her, and Isabelle turned to see the defiant boy behind her, weakly standing with a tired hunch to his shoulders as he sagged visibly. She wondered idly if all of the mundanes that woke up stumbled about like this, or if it had been disobedient Clary specifically that had dragged him out and forced him dressed so soon after his change.

He looked hung over and despite how much care her partner had taken to straighten him out, she could _smell _the rotting scent of wretch and the hungry wish for death still lurked in his soft brown eyes.

"Why?" She turned curious eyes to him, her face scrunching slightly as she tried to dissect his intentions, "I'm certain you have no need for them now."

Simon snorted and his fingers twitched, open palm reaching further out as he demanded their return, "Yes well I'd like to have them back all the same."

Isabelle's eyebrow lifted in an elegant arch at his antics. She had to give it to him, he had some nads, or he was significantly stupider than she had originally taken him for. He was cute, in a bookish way, and though she doubted he had the vast knowledge of a Shadow hunter his age, she thought he would strive to quickly surpass them in the years to come. Shrugging, she played innocent, turning from the boy, as she looked to her manicure, coyly throwing over her shoulder, "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have them."

She swayed away from him then, her dress fluttering like a flag behind her. Simon scowled at the girl that snubbed him, only momentarily before he let his gaze drift to the way she moved languidly, like an ocean's current.

For her own effort, Isabelle could only feel elated as she realized she had made a remarkable impact. She doubted she made a friend this way, but oh how he would remember her. With a small smirk, she sauntered back towards the door, not wanting to give congratulations to either boy that caused her dear brother so much heart ache.

_**XOX**_

With an exasperated sigh, Clary unfurled a hand fan; waving it gently with the flick of her wrist to stave off the overheated discussion, her other hand raked her lovely locks back towards her shoulder exasperatedly. The gesture was lost on these people, and they just fawned like a bunch dogs, and someone brushed her ego, saying how lovely a girl Valentine had and the conversation went south from there. Her voice trilled, and she realized these people were going to think she was laughing at the atrocious joke. Why, oh merciful god, why?

Why was it that she always got dragged into these things? Why couldn't she just simply be Clary, and not daughter of the master of the house? She was getting tired of these people, always overshadowing her and her brother wherever they went.

Somehow she had lost Simon when the rush of people had absorbed her into the mob around her brother. Turning her attention from the group, she tried her best to coyly look around the affectionate crowd, trying to see through the gaps they provided every so often to peer around the room.

She didn't see head or tail of the boy, and she was about to rejoin the group mentally when a presence made itself known, a hard chest pressing against her back as a hand caught her bicep. Her small frame trembled with wrath as the boy pressed his lips against the back of her ear, the force of his embrace immediately alerting her to who touched her.

"Miss him that much, little sister?" Jonathan whispered, coming up behind her, his hand running down the length of one ruby wave, twisting the end around his finger near her shoulder. She jumped, whirling around on him, and she backhanded his shoulder, turning on him viciously. He only smirked, knowing she hardly meant it this time. He couldn't count the number of times she had bloodied him and gotten away with it because she was his precious, delicate angel. Glancing to the flesh that reddened beneath the thick leather gears, Jonathan laughed, "Don't worry, Clary- dear. I'm sure the boy will survive that bawdy nature you're hiding in your petticoats."

Clary's jaw dropped, and she longed to slug him, to feel his blood on her hands as she pummeled his face in again, "I'll have you know, I'm not a whore! At least all of my relationships don't boarder on the depraved and nefarious!"

Stepping back up to her, Jonathan towered over her by a head. She glared at him, trying to level the playing field until he touched her chin gently, tilting her mouth to his in a simmering kiss.

When he finally parted from her, her eyes had drifted shut, and as her body went lax against his she clutched to the collar on his jacket, unsure if she would have drifted away if not for the solidity he offered.

"By the Angel, Clary… you are the most un-depraved of them all. If anything, you allow me to debase you by my very presence."

A small smile spread over her lips, and her hand idly played with the softness that fluttered in her warm mouth as he whispered such loving things to her, eagerly pressing another kiss to her cheek as he mouthed mutely things to her without anyone's notice.

She quickly forgot about Simon, content to let him accurately boost her ego in a way that these mutts that scrambled over themselves could never achieve, leaning into his enchanting arms.

_**XOX**_

Jace awkwardly stood by himself, distancing himself from the Morgenstern siblings who had come back together; Clary eagerly spoke, her arms making huge, angry gestures.

Jonathan seemed content to let her threaten him. After several shrill moments, he laughed and drew her up into a soft kiss that silenced her, unobserved by anyone but Jace it seemed, and as he released her, his face pressed itself against her ear and the girl smiled brightly, her fingers touching her lips idly. Her hands went to the tender mark on her brother's right wrist, the darkness brighter as it burned red around the edges, already healing around the outermost swirls. She looked proud of her brother, and he wondered if that feeling would be turned to him in the moments that followed when she knew that he too had been branded with his first mark or if that was saved especially for her kin.

Silently, Jace moved to come towards the siblings, until a hand halted his approach. Alec stood in his way, his hands grasping the shorter boy by his biceps, with a haunted look in his pale eyes. He looked hurt still, but urgent desperation pulled his face taught, and he leaned into Jace, hugging him tightly to his chest, face in his hair, "Be careful now Jace. I know what I'm talking about."

His face was so close to his ear, turned just so that Jace could feel wave after wave of warm air flutter over his lobe as the warning reached him, "Beware evil that wears the face of an angel."

The other boy released him then, too quick for Jace to make sense of what happened, and after a few moments, he understood why. Jonathan had wrenched the other boy off of him unceremoniously, and the two glared at each other viciously. "We need to discuss your loyalty, Alec."

"I'm _allowed to congratulate_ Jace as well," Alec's voice was sharp now, as he yanked his arm out of the other boy's hold. "It a free country, y'know. I can do what I want."

"Oh, too well." Jonathan's voice came out bitterly, "But how is it your sister understands her role in life so well and you struggle with accepting it? Your loyalty belongs to me, Alexander Lightwood. Any friendship that you obtain comes after our bond- it is what our parents demand."

Clary came forward and moved between them then, getting up in her brother's face as she yanked her brother's hands off of Alec's coat sleeve. Apparently all the loving cues were gone from her, and now she stood defiantly between them, a very tangible force that could leave him in serious pain if he wasn't careful. The message she posed to the others was clear in the way she raised up against the other boy, fury in her frame: run.

The two boys took the hint, and Alec grabbed at Jace, shoving him away as he rushed them from the room, having enough experience in knowing how the two siblings lived with each other to understand when blood was about to be drawn.

"He doesn't have to choose you, Jonathan!" Clary shrieked, drawing the room's attention like moths to the flame. Her father tried to draw their attention back, but it was too late, the dramatic scene had been set out before them and it was a feast for them to make rumors of. Regardless, the girl could not bite back her tongue as she bit out, "Like it or not, he doesn't have to-"

"And neither do you_**,**__** apparently**_," His wrath turned to his younger sister, dark eyes pinning on Clary and she wilting her like a flower beneath the intensity, instantly shutting her mouth, her jaw clicking closed. He seized her, and dragged her towards him, her forearm bound by the hand he had just received first marks on. Despite the pain, he grasped her with enough force that she couldn't wrench free, no matter how she yanked and thrashed about. "You have _**no **_room to talk. At least he chooses another hunter over me. You're my sister, Clary, and a mundane you just met meant more to you than a promise you made to me."

She looked in shock for several moments, her wide green eyes shimmering, and she pulled back with enough force that he just let her go, stumbling awkwardly until she stood her ground, watching him in self-realized horror. After the feeling settled deep enough, she wrapped her arms around her midriff. The normally soft eyes hardened, pinpointing a spot on the floor to push all of her aggression, and her voice came out as a harsh whisper, "He would have died if I didn't help him, Jonathan. You know that."

"Good riddance." Came his harsh reply, as he pushed past her roughly, ignoring the way his sister barely held on to her irritation, a violent heat starting at her fingertips as he walked away. "After all, that's just what you need, Clarissa. Another distraction from what we really are."

Turning Clary screamed as the door settled shut behind him and where her hands clasped so tightly, Simon saw small shocks of smoke rising. She should have pummeled the bastard when she had the chance. Now he thought he'd gotten away with it, and she would be made to go to bed angry with him later. After all, Jonathan always got his way in the end, and Clary always kept her promises. Approaching her silently, the once human boy touched her shoulder, and she jumped, unclenching her hands and looked to him in surprise. His soft smile eased her agitation and for a moment, Simon saw the flecks of gold in her lovely eyes before they shifted back to light green, and they squinted slightly as her expression turned to one of false happiness.

"Come on, Simon." She tugged at his arm gently, "We need to find you a home. You can't just stay in my brother's bedroom."

His thoughts raced as he followed mutely out of the room, her warm hand holding his at her side as her hips waved sharply side to side, a definitive snap that sent her skirt in short spurts of unfurling waves.

"No, I suppose I can't," he said softly, as his hand tightened in hers, following obediently, "especially since he's exposed himself as an insufferable douche-bag."

Clary paused, her body going rigid as she turned wide, surprised eyes to him with her hand frozen over the door handle. Simon thought he might have had said the wrong thing as everyone in the room stared at him. He so easily forgot that he was the outsider here, and that he had probably just entered the biggest faux pas of his life. His worry eased, as the girl choked on a laugh, the smile reaching her eyes at last, her hand tightening on his as she pulled him out of the room, a rush that was far lighter taking over.

Her voice brightly floated to him, and only after they had reached her room did he recognize what she had cried so excitedly_**, "A wondrous pet you'll make for me"**_

_**XOX**_

_**(Four or Five months later)**_

Feverishly, his clothes fell piece by piece as eager hands pulled at him again. Jace wondered, hazily, if Jonathan treated anyone else with this amount of unhinged passion. He knew that the relationship between Jonathan and his sister had strained drastically since their marking ceremony, and just short of weekly he had been dragged off to soothe the boy, these fast paced make-out sessions growing in intensity as the months passed. He seemed to be a surrogate for the boy's affection. It wasn't unheard of for Jace to wake up wrapped up in the long, pale arms of the other boy, in just their boxers and a sheet between them.

With a sigh, his hand rolled down the paler boy's back, grasping the uneven flesh that curiously told more of a story about the boy's youth than he did, and a twinge of guilt passed through him as Jonathan wrenched his hand down away from the mass of scar tissue to rest at his hip. The command didn't surprise him, as the fingers idled against his, "Stop thinking about it."

The pain was tightening in his chest again. He could see the tension in the other boy's shoulders daily now; it seemed to never leave him be, and it made him easy to anger, and more demanding.

Jace wasn't about to lie, he had been, the tough flesh often ran through his mind when the elder boy removed his shirt, even when Jace's hand passed over it fully clothed. How could the father they shared take such aggression out on one child and not the other? True, Jace had seen the darkness lurking beneath the surface, felt its vicious bite the day of his ninth birthday, and would have probably held substantially more damage had he run his mouth the way that he had seen Jonathan do with his father. It came down to a bitter relationship between father and son, he was sure.

Jonathan bit down hard on his pectoral, drawing blood and a sharp yelp out of the boy that's hands idled back over his spine, "I _**told **_you to stop."

_**XOX**_

There was nothing Jonathan could do about it. He had to wait patiently while his father took his damn sweet time. It always seemed to go this way, and some days he wondered if he ought not go and hunt down the beast his father had so effectively hidden from him and just take of its blood himself.

The gnawing, crushing need was overtaking him more and more these days, and he couldn't help but snap at those closest to him, those that's fealty had been sworn to him. Alec, his closest friend, had distanced himself, and tried to drag Jace away as well, only sharing the training lessons with him, and even then he tried to get Jace to pair up with him instead, leaving Jonathan to spar with the instructor.

It didn't matter though. His claws were so deep in Jace that the boy wasn't going to run away, not unless he released all of his aggression on him, something he was trying his damndest to control.

He wasn't Clary. Though he was caste from the same bone and flesh, she forgave wholeheartedly without having an excuse from him. She knew him that well that she didn't need one. He doubted that his angel boy would treat him as well. He was after all, not really his family, and all he held over him was this pleasant exchange that brought him enough peace of mind that he felt like he could control his furiously boiling blood.

The golden haired boy ran his hands down the mass of whip marks that his father had gifted to him and he flinched, wrenching the fingers that tried to soothe the injured flesh from their task, to rest at the waistband of his silk pajama bottoms, before darkly growling at the look in the other man's eye, a contemplative stare that spoke more than he could ever express verbally, "Stop thinking about it."

Jace pitied him. Somehow, instinct must have kicked in somewhere and made him realize he wasn't the favored child. First born and a son, true, but that was where Valentine's consideration ended. If he could, both boys had no doubt that he would have murdered his son. Instead, he settled on torture, reminding him daily of his worthlessness in the shadow of the children he had gifted angelic blood with. They never had to struggle with insanity, the rawness that came with it as clarity slipped beneath the restless waves and you hurt everyone you came to care about. It was hardly a wonder that he stole from the children his father so favored. He was taking their love in place of his parents'. The hands at his waist tightened, and Jonathan saw the boy distance himself again.

He was contemplating the worth he held to his father. With a dark look, he pinned the boy down with as much malice that stirred within him. The urge came upon him to drain the boy of his blood, to revel in the way it would languidly drip across his flesh.

The thought of Jace lying broken on the floor forever snuffed out from this world, however, had his stomach tightening painfully. He couldn't stand the look on his face, either though. He couldn't break this sweet boy, couldn't destroy his purity that drew him irrevocably towards him, but he couldn't stand that pity either. Leaning forward, his lips pressed a gentle kiss to the flesh above his heart, and sank his teeth into the firm muscle, feeling blood rush against his teeth. It was enough of a warning that the boy's golden eyes cleared and his hands fell away, tightening at his lumbar and it eased him to know that he was punished enough that he regretted pitying Jonathan, "I _**told **_you to stop."

_**XOX**_

A noise at the door had them both upstarted, and Jonathan unceremoniously shoved Jace off of the bed, so as not to make the same mistake that had occurred with the Lightwood girl. He really needed to start locking that damn door. Too many people just walked in a willy- nilly.

It opened softly, exposing his sister in her silk robe, her hair cascading over her shoulder like a crimson waterfall, blending softly into the black and gold silk chemise beneath that cupped her breasts just so that he could see the soft chasm between them as she ducked her head into the dark room, her hand clutching the loose robe over her front in modesty, "Jonathan?"

She looked around the darkness, and settled on the bed where she saw the unmade bed and what looked like a boy sitting near the large headboard, "You there? I was worried; I know father hasn't gotten you any more injections yet. Are you still all right? Do you need me tonight?"

The girl had grown accustomed over the years with her brother using her to sate the hunger, the darkness that lurked behind his haunted eyes, knew well the exhaustion that settled in his very bones and caused him unending agony. She was the only thing that could ease him in these sometimes long-drawn out moments that their father sought to obtain the medication her brother needed. She also knew how deeply he would cut her with words he didn't mean as he struggled to maintain himself. He must be there again, she knew. He walked around half in a daze, with the telltale signs of self-inflicted claw marks and bruising and he had been especially hurtful, though she undoubtedly knew that she would always forgive this nature in him.

He was after all, her brother, though a monster her father created lurked beneath the surface. She knew what her father had done to him, her mother had let it slip so many years ago, and she had dedicated herself that day to save him, no matter the costs.

The door shut behind her when she received no response, and she settled against the thick wood, her breath baited. He found his voice, watching in awe as she let the robe fall from her chest to expose the full column of her neck and shoulders, unmarked and pure as she ought to be, an ethereal vision in the light of the dim fire, "Come to the bed, we're waiting."

A sharp grasp alerted him to Jace's reluctance to announce his presence, and as he scrambled up, Clary blindly called out, "Who else is in here with you, Jonathan? Alec? You could've at least told me before I started taking my clothes off!"

Why wouldn't she think of Alec? After all, the boy was close friends with Jonathan, surely they had had sleepovers before when they were younger. Still, her sharp outcry twisted in his gut.

He stopped in his escape, turning quickly enough to see the haunting vision of the young seductress in all her glory, a thin night dress that hugged her every curve with two slits up the sides ending at her rounded hips. A rustle announced her indignant shift, pulling her robe back to cover herself, but it was too late, Jace had seen everything, and he was hooked. He breathed unevenly, the hitch to his intake making him stutter in her wondrous presence. "I-i-ittsmee."

Clary paused then, in the middle of tying the thin fabric shut tight again, "Was that _**Jace?**_"

Wickedly, Jonathan sprawled backwards, tucking his arms behind his head, and languidly enjoying the show about to abruptly start before his eyes, his two favorite playthings and he… "How about you just come here and find out, Clarissa."

Mutely, she nodded before timidly shuffling towards the king- sized bed, climbing up with a grace that laid claim to the fact she had done this now for years.

Jace watched with curiously wide golden eyes, feeling voyeuristic as the girl pulled up to her brother, loosening the robe to fall languidly off her thin shoulders as she laid down beside him. Her head pillowed itself against his shoulder as she watched him with half-hooded green eyes, her hair wildly fanning about her face.

Jonathan watched the two, obviously attracted to one another as they batted at each other. He shut his eyes, blocking out the way the two stared blatantly at one another. He could hear the change in his sister's breathing, a soft pitch as the boy approached on deft feet, to kneel on the bed on the other side of his hip.

"Kiss her."

This couldn't be happening. Jace looked from Jonathan to Clary, both the image of nobility, their youthful flesh glowing in the pale flashes of light strewn from the fireplace, both looking like they really could care less.

Clary sat up, drawing her long hair over her shoulder as she tucked her knees to the side of her, looking up innocently at him with a soft smile. She didn't seemed disturbed that her brother had commanded that he make a move on his little sister, something Jace had assumed most older brothers would be offended by.

He had dreamed now for years of kissing the young woman, of telling her how his heart felt as if they were completing each other's when they simply met gazes. He had avoided her for what felt like lifetimes in order to subdue her father's wrath, and yet here she was, being offered up to him by Valentine's son no less, the boy that took from him restful sleep in an empty bed, and gifted him peaceful ones wrapped up with languid kisses that evoked feelings he didn't quite have names for.

Tilting his head regally, Jonathan leaned into an open palm, observing the other boy at war with himself, and took his inactivity as a blatant decline to his order. His dark eyes dissected, taking away more than clothes as his capricious thoughts had his playmates reeling, "You wish to please me, don't you Jace? To make me consider you highly? Then do as I tell you now- Kiss her."

Clary was first to move, coming timidly up to sit on his knees, her full lips parted as she drew his against them. She approached timidly, embarrassed by her dress as it rode up to expose all of her milky thighs, but she came nonetheless, straddling his thighs as she raised her hand to touch his sharp jawline. The kiss was awkward at first; there was no other way to describe it. Jace sat up on his knees, before settling on the balls of his feet, the shift making her thighs tighten over his as she slid, locking herself in place.

Clary would be lying if she were to say that she didn't see the attractiveness in the boy. He was fairly good looking, the kind of appearance that would only grow hotter as he aged into the lean muscles that were starting to chisel themselves out. Even now, she could see the small divots in his abdomen that would one day become ripped washboard abs, and his arms were bands of corded muscle that supported her as she settled against his legs, straddling his thighs widely. Raising her hands, she let them loose in his golden curls, the color lovely in the firelight as she brought her lips to his softly.

The first kiss was brief, and neither felt comfortable enough to venture too deep. This innocent play at affection was not what Jonathan had in mind, however and in the brief moments that they had taken breath, he came up behind his sister to trap her between their two bodies, his legs clenching down on Jace's mid-thigh to keep him where he liked. The girl sharply breathed in as a hand pressed against the underside of her sensitive breast, lifting the slight bit of flesh fondly. Letting out the breath she held, she leaned against it, resting her head against her brother's shoulder as she only partially accepted that it was Jace's hand on her, fondling her soft flesh, entrapped by her brother's hand that guided him. It didn't surprise her when she felt the new boy's abdomen tighten, and she was crushed between the two aroused boys as both let their hands wander her soft curves.

A faint cry, however, made her jump, and it was only then that she realized that though the boys had taken turns toying with her like a plaything, she was stuck _**between**_ them, an anchor that kept the two bound somehow. A wet, smacking noise drew her attention to the right where the boys' mouths had crashed against one another, Jonathan's hand tight in the other boy's hair offering him no escape. His other hand drew hers from her lap, pushing it to his hip bone

"Kiss him," came the breathy whisper, hot on her neck as his hand tightened over her hip, rubbing rough circles that eased her somehow, a low and warm tightening seizing her in the pit of her stomach that had never been there before. She turned, willing to comply when he was treating her so gently, only to find Jace's lips occupied by the one that had ordered her to obey.

"But I can't kiss him," she whispered as the hand grew rougher, grinding her between the two arousals. Jace gave a pleasant mewl, and his hand tightened against her other hip, helping to guide her as she hovered between the two, and both hands tightened, the other still on the breast she allowed him to cup warmly. "Not with _**your **_lips on him!"

_**Come now…**_ she swore she could hear the sarcasm in the tone, in his voice _**You were supposed to be the creative one. Now, really Clary…**_

Easing forward, she pressed her lips to his throat, and felt the tightening of his jaw, rewarded by the sharp intake of his breath and the feral growl of warning that Jonathan gave him as the other boy drew away, grinding upwards. When she leaned to kiss higher up his neck, the two boys lifted her, pressing closer together until they were one writhing unit, all caressing fingertips and heatedly placed kisses. Jace had stopped resisting now that Clary acted on her own freewill, gentle touches making him yearn to embrace her, but every time his hand reached for her, he was warned physically by an unspoken rule, until the other boy had pressed him backward and he collapsed against the pillows, the Morgenstern siblings pressing their way deeper into him.

He was welcome to visit this pleasure. Jace read that easily enough in the way Jonathan had guided him at first, now leaving him to his own devices, so long as his attentions were divided between them both.

But anytime he tried to single out Clary, to shower her with the affection such a goddess should deserve, he was punished raptly; a pinched nipple, a bit lip. It wasn't until Jonathan had yanked his hair in order to drag his mouth away from Clary's soft one that he understood.

They both belonged to Jonathan. So long as both came crawling back to him, provided him with enough affection to drown in, they would be allowed free range of their hearts desires.

_**XOX**_

Being pressed between the two boys was like being pinned between a hurricane and a tsunami. It didn't matter where she turned, there was someone there. Every time Jace's lips were able to escape from her brother's, they pressed urgently to hers, giving stolen kisses with the urgency of being hunted, and every time her heart tightened as he was dragged away from her, until she clung to his strong shoulders, letting the whirlwind that was her brothers just take her where it would.

She was vaguely aware that the nearness between their bodies had tightened and she now practically rode both erections, every shift making the pair sigh with relief until they were dragging her down.

Jace was getting desperate, clinging tightly to her, and her brother did not appreciate it.

Pulling back, her brother twisted, pulling her against his taught, heaving chest, and took her to the side of the golden boy, pinning her to the mattress, pressing fevered kisses everywhere she would let him.

Stuck in the lovely feeling of their affection, Clary let her head fall back, a soft sigh rewarding him each time he petted her a way she enjoyed, a much lighter play than when he had pinned her between them. The languid kisses made her mind fuzz, until nothing remained but the warm feeling that filled her, his arms wrapped around her.

Jonathan turned then to Jace, a contented smile on his face for once that the Herondale boy could remember as he rolled back to spoon him, Clary following half in her daze to throw a long arm around her brother's trim waist line. The hand hung loosely, and Jace took it between his, letting his eyes fall silently, drifting easily off to sleep as the sound of their heartbeats filled his ears, a gently lulling melody that calmed him to the dark, endless abyss.

_**XOX**_

When Jonathan finally awoke, it was well into the day again, far off from their usually scheduled awakening before dawn. The sun had risen to announce day, and they all slumbered on. Sometime in the night, he had spun onto his back, and his siblings' hands still held true, fingers interlocked across his stomach as they slept on his chest. Deep within him, he felt peaceful, the pain that ruled over him from the day all but gone from his system.

He expected to feel exhaustion set in, like it often times did when he sought out his clarity and reveled in it, but was happily surprised by the way he felt nothing but warmth fill him. It brought a true smile to his face, and he unhinged the two from his shoulders.

Clary made a noise of discontent before settling against Jace, her hands tightening against the boy's chest in a way that made his heart clench. He knew what made them what they were now. It was impossible for it to be any other way. As his father had made him into a beast, he had done something of a similar nature to his sister. It was this that had given him such ease of mind.

The blood he had gifted to her, Jonathan had long suspected, was that of an angel. Possibly that of the angel he feasted upon himself. It was the reality that he faced now. Clary had given him peace before, but never in such a drastic amount. He saw no darkness ebb in the edges of his vision.

He felt human for once in his life, a normal boy. Looking to his reflection, he saw that a dark green had replaced the black, staring back at him expectantly. Was this how others felt?

He looked to Jace, and recalled the brightness to his eyes, a gold he often saw in his sister's eyes. It was so obvious to him now; the two that shared his bed were one and the same creature. Together, their powers combined to make one heavenly being, and together, they gifted him with insurmountable peace.

Turning, Jonathan left the room, willing to give them their space to wake up to one another and not his demanding nature, a payment they deserved so much after what they gave him. His destination was his father's office, the room he reported to daily to take in his duties every morning before beginning his warm ups for training, most of which being a begrudging order to be nicer to the house maids.

A smirk passed over his lips as the thought passed his mind. Fancy him being anything but a cocky little bastard to the fearful women that ran at his very shadow. He contemplated whether or not he fancied torturing them still with his newly cleared mind, and the realization passed him that he couldn't care less.

_**XOX**_

The boy entered of his own accord, knocking once on the mahogany slab before slipping inside to be addressed. Maryse perked up, sitting on the edge of her chair as she closed her book, looking to the clock across the room. It was nearly ten and the boy had only now emerged from his room.

"Take your medicine." Valentine blandly intoned, motioning his hand towards the long, unrolled leather pouch at the end of his desk which had slots of pre-measured needles for easy distribution. Often times when he was a young boy, the sight of the instruments laid out this way horrified him, the long metal and glass syringes stark and shimmering, almost black with the blood they housed as they sat on his father's desk as if on display. They taunted him too, telling him he wasn't a whole person and never would be, the failure something he would always have to live with. He could bare it, however, as he always had.

The elder man didn't look up, simply continuing on with his work, too busy to truly be bothered by his only true son. He was always that way too these days. Maryse was more attentive to his needs, and he wondered if she didn't think she was making leeway into becoming an actually set fixture in the family.

The silly woman had no idea that she would be tossed away with yesterday's trash the moment his actual mother returned to them. No one would ever replace Jocelyn in Valentine's heart, not ever. Although, Jonathan had to give her that she was the best mother _**he**_ had ever had.

When he made no move to take it, Valentine glanced towards the boy, making a note in the medical journal he worked on in the process. It had been almost a month since he had been able to supply his son with anything substantial to soothe him, and it wore on them both when the stores he kept were so empty. He lived like an addict, it was true, waiting for the next fix, but his son needed this, it sustained him. Valentine waited for his son to take of the abundance when it was to be had, when he himself had yet to indulge to make sure that Jonathan was indeed secured. His son shrugged, his thumbs in his pockets as he stood awkwardly before the desk, "I don't think I need it."

His voice was flat, unbothered. Looking at him closer, he could see a small smile played at his son's lips, his eyes fixed on the bag of syringes, and his long, thin fingers came to touch his mouth, the Morgenstern family ring settling on his right hand middle finger loosely as it curled, pressing the finger pad across the smooth, warm flesh surrounding his mouth.

The smile widened, then, and he nodded, firmly, "No, I don't need it."

Maryse responded from the shock first, standing abruptly from the armchair beside the desk, dropping the journal she read to the desk as she rushed him, enclosing him to her breast as her emotions overtook her, "That is excellent news, Jonathan!"

Valentine intoned his agreement, searching his son for a sign of falseness. But it seemed his son was at ease, truly. He even allowed his mistress to embrace him, and no one save Clary could even do that much. There was a physical change as well, a lightness that had changed his eyes from dark abysses to a deep emerald, rimmed with serpent green around the irises and he seemed content, his shoulders slumped in a carefree manner he did not normally attribute to his son.

Maryse whipped around to look at his father, her eyes bright and hopeful, as she released the boy from her abrupt hug, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she drew away, "Do you suppose this is the first Nephilim marks' doing?"

"We will have to test the Eve to be certain, but this is a considerably large. If we can selectively null those ill-conceived tendencies with the Voyance rune... We can press on earlier."

He went to the bookshelf, looking up around and past the vast array of books, until he found it, an archaic symbol he had bored into the top of the column that marked the shelf he needed. Pulling the ladder around along the rounded wall behind the desk, he went to the right of the broken symbol that appeared like a clawed hand holding something loosely and ascended, reaching blindly for the only gray book on the shelf, the only one which he never touched. It was dusty, and bare, save the first few pages, photos sent to him from a far off land.

As he climbed silently down the ladder, the book tucked safely beneath his arm as he descended once more, Maryse seemed to steel herself, as she saw that his eyes had pinned on his son who remained wide-eyed and she urged the boy from the room with a soft apology.

Jonathan resisted only momentarily as his father's words took form in his mind fully. He wasn't just a mistake.

There was two of him, just like the two slumbering in his bed? A breeding pair… The thought had his heart fluttering desperately in his chest. The moment the door closed behind him, he struggled against it again, desperate to hear more. He had lived his life to this point thinking he was an abomination, his father's worst mistake. Now, he knew that it wasn't a _**he**_, it was a _**they**_.

_**They **_were his biggest blunder. So much so that he had sent the girl he had created for his son away. Slamming his fist against the wood door, he felt the wood give slightly, splintering away. He snarled, shouting obscenities at the door that neither adult within addressed, dealing with the issues at hand.

The dark haired woman silently took the small tome, flipping open to the first page, taking in the name elegantly scrawled across the paper, a birth certificate with notes drawled across the edges, a picture of a dark haired girl with equally black eyes glaring back. Even as a baby, she looked threatening. She supposed that that might have been why this was the first time she had heard of a second child borne out of the barren demonic blood. Her voice cracked, as she looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, "Valentine... you made two of them? Isn't it difficult to keep one child in line?

He didn't answer the question at first, his mind on the girl that was always meant to be his son's mate, just as Jace had been made for Clary, albeit he had never intended his daughter to be the feminine counterpart to the boy. It had been a mistake on his end, as he had drugged his wife up hoping not to lose her to the overwhelming sadness that consumed her. By time he had realized she was pregnant, it was already too late. He had saved his wife, true, but he had forced her to bare him another monster.

He thought about how difficult it was for his son to know what he was, the only one of the children he had experimented upon and observed the growth of that seemed to exert any real damaging results. He had sent the female demon-made child away shortly after her birth, seeing the evil that lurked behind his son's eyes, and knew that she too would bare the same ill tendencies. He couldn't help his sentiment, however, and had felt it wrong to leave his son with no one in the world that would really, truly understand him.

Turning tired eyes on the woman that hoped to replace the only woman that he had ever cared for save his child, he rubbed his temple with his forefinger and thumb, as he murmured softly, looking to the center column that bore a lotus-like symbol, numerous books shelved on the right side of the one he drew the book she held from. He saw the woman's daughter, her unique eyes that would have glared at him mercilessly in defense of her family or Clary, the girl he had watched grow up beside his own and kept near for her blood as well.

"I made a mate for your daughter, didn't I Maryse? If I refused to leave her alone, why would I do the same to my own kin?" came his voice, a wispy breath that went through her like an arrow aimed for her heart. The woman pursed her lips, before nodding her understanding. She had allowed him to experiment on her daughter as well, hoping it would gain her equal footing. If Jocelyn had gained favor for allowing such a thing to occur to her children and had not shied away, why should she, when the blood he offered her might strengthen her bond with the man. Besides, hers was a lesser risk, it always was, and truth be told, Maryse had seen no real change or alteration from her first child in comparison.

"How long until you can bring her here, Maryse?" his voice broke through to her and her head jerked up from the portfolio journal to meet his dark, haunting gaze.

"Where is she?" her voice caught, a deep resonation trembling in her voice as

"Who knows what drives the girl. She _ought_ to be somewhere in Asia still however. That's where I last saw her."

"Her parents let her just do as she wants? She's still just a child!"

"Oh they don't _allow _much of anything..." Valentine let off, allowing her imagination to run wild. Did the girl really run rabid? Was she anything like Jonathan?

Turning, the woman left without another sound, shoving unceremoniously passed the boy that still stood pressed against the door, her shoulder sharply hitting his as she went by. The faster she got this done with, the faster she could come home to her children.

_**XOX**_

_**HUZAAAH! Another chappie. More plots unfurl.**_

_**So one this whole threesome thing: Jonathan is still the same monster he is in the book, but his father has been subduing him with mixture of sedatives and angel blood. What he takes from his siblings creates clarity for him, which is what he lusts after. With one, it makes him calm, two give him serenity. They also change his emotional state because of this, which is why he was so angry in the last chapter that she had reneged on their agreement, as he's gone without stabilizing through medical means, and so his only other choice was Clary, whom ignored his needs to see to someone she didn't even know for a day. To punish her, he planned on hurting someone he knew she cared for, until he realized that Jace gave him the same that his sister did. So angry at her, he uses Jace instead.**_

_**But of course if one was good, what would two do for him?**_

_**I hope that the Adam/Eve thing makes a bit more sense to you guys now. They are the first of their respective new races, demonic (the way left shelves which are dedicated to Jonathan and his mate), angelic (the way right shelves), which are dedicated to notes on Jace and Clary, and the ones in between (those that surround the lotus, which represent Isabelle and her mate). They are the ones that Valentine is trying to breed perfect warriors into. Because the Shadowhunter race is important to him, he has enough forethought to make sure that a combination of the species is in fact possible. That means that they must not be sterile like Vampires and Warlocks, but be able to continue their respective races.**_

_**I keep outlining where I want each chapter to end, and over- writing chapters. This one after I got close to where I finished off was going to be about 35 + or so pages, I realized, and had to cut off so I could get you the chapter within the week. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have had posted until the 15**__**th**__**, after my birthday festivities. How is everyone enjoying the length? Would you like more chapters, or lengthier ones like the last two? I can punch out shorter chapters faster if you'd like, but I rather like the longer lengths.**_

_**Any who~ **_

_**Love it? Review, Follow, Fave, Share.**_

_**A special shout out to Lauren for her feedback. I'd like to give you oodles of promises where Jocelyn is concerned, but I'll settle for just saying that there will be more of her in this story, as well as more on Maryse and Valentine. I just feel like prioritizing their story now isn't necessary, but it is bound to happen eventually.**_

_**And if you guys could, I'd like a head count of people that like this. Please review, just so I know how many are enjoying this so far, even if it's just a smiley face**_

_**Love to all my readers out there, either way**_

_**Till Next Time**_

_**~*~TAORI~*~**_


	4. Grey for Knowledge Best Untold

_**Grey for Knowledge Best Untold**_

_**XOX**_

Simon ran after her, calling her name. He was a slight boy, wimpy almost in physique, and had given most of the adult Shadow hunters that ran with Valentine a good, hearty laugh as they watched the once mundane boy stumble behind their great leader's youngest child. She seemed content to keep him with her, too, and the subject became quite popular dinner-table talk.

What did such a good girl see in the boy? He wasn't much to look at, what with his thick head of brown tight curls and his brown eyes he was pretty plain; in addition to that he seemed to be of moderate intelligence, and his skill with blade was abysmal. He was nothing special, not like the Morgenstern son or daughter nor the adopted Herondale boy. Valentine seemed content enough to ignore the child, but provided him the essentials, making a role model of his family for others to take on as the waves of human children were displaced from their world and the survivors were left homeless, unable to return home they might as well be called orphans. The first households to take in the newly-made Shadow-hunters were those in the Circle, and others followed suit. Out of the hundreds of thousands in Idris, about a thousand now were mundane-born, and though it was common practice to just throw them into a single house with a nanny to watch over the masses before, Clary had forced her hand, and also the possibility to allow Mundies to be brought into pure Shadow-hunter homes.

She treated him like a normal boy, someone she could rely on unlike any other. She changed tradition, and with that change she brought a hope that one day, the children forced to endure the change could stand beside the children born as Nephilim. That time was now, however, where Clary was concerned. She made it her point to accept them the way they were, to defend the weak and hopeless.

It was something that Simon loved about her. Not everyone had the same views as his beloved Clary.

Off on one of the steep ridges, Isabelle observed the way the boy stumbled along awkwardly after her would-be partner, keeping low to the ground so she wouldn't be seen. The Lightwoods were of the few families he had encountered that had created a strong front against the muddling of families. Alec looked down on him disdainfully, constantly making ignorant remarks that Jace was beginning to reflect as well, and Isabelle liked to snub him when she didn't outright ignore him. Today she watched him distrustfully, crouched like a pantheress in her tight gears, low on the hill as she stalked the opposing team, all the while following Simon carefully. She didn't trust him, but that was fine. Simon didn't trust her all that much either.

Clary had forced them all come to outside for a fight session in the hills near the ancient city's walls, wanting desperately to breathe in the spring air after being trapped up in the house for so long. Her grandmother had relented and stood in as a referee as the children split off into two teams, the Morgenstern siblings with their pet vs the Lightwoods and Simon. The game was slow going as far as strategy was concerned for their part, but Clary, Jonathan and Jace seemed to have fused into a single unit, fluid in their motions in a similar way that the Lightwoods had. The only difference was he was the wedge dragging them down. This was an all or nothing war, after all. Three people, three mock deaths. That's all they got.

Luckily, stalking Clary had become second nature to Simon, he could do it even if his life depended on it, and so tracking her here was no problem. He knew her. In less than three short months she would turn eleven, and her lessons would drop off completely. He would have to lose her then unless Valentine decided to amp his training like Jace's, though he doubted it would happen, but until then he had these moments, reading her, following her. Simon saw the excitement bundling beneath her skin, she could hardly wait.

Chasing after where he had seen her go down the hill, he slid over the hilltop, and smiled as he saw her descending in a forward tuck roll. He leapt, dropping like a rock as he tumbled down after her. The ground shifted out beneath him, rocks catching him roughly on his open palms as he used the momentum of the fall to vault himself time and time again down the hill, keeping his head tucked so it didn't crash against the ground. With his much larger, heavier frame he caught up with her in no time somewhere three fourths of the way down, snatching her delicate wrist from beneath her so that she tumbled off, spinning onto her side to slow her momentum and hopefully not break her neck.

She wasn't about to be given that chance, however. Simon twisted, dragging her underneath him as they rolled, struggling against one another until they hit the bottom of the hill, Clary pinned beneath him with wide green eyes.

Her chest heaved beautifully, the air filling her lungs in burning rushes that pressed her bare breast bone outward, an inviting site and so delicious a surprise. Her chest glistened with a small layer of sweat from the chase and exertion of running from Alec when he had almost caught her the first time, having kicked her in the calf hard enough that she still felt it hours later after the first mock death he had stolen. The tumble on the hill had left her indecent as well, not that Simon was one to tell her that- he was a boy after all and he loved her.

He loved her, more than he believed anyone else could love her. True enough, she was the only thing good he had left in his life, but now that he was here, he wondered how he would have lived his life if he had never met her. It had to be fate's intervention, God's will that brought him here. She was everything pure in the world, she had to be.

The girl bucked then seeing her chance, trying to dislodge him when he was distracted enough.

Simon drew the stele rapidly out of his belt with a small amount of flourish, feeling rushed to move else she get enough grounding to shift out from beneath him, and brought it down to her chest, seizing up when the tip came to brush the hollow of her long throat, glowing warmly in the presence of Nephilim flesh. The girl's breath caught, and everything froze but Clary and her pet, as her head fell back, arching her back against him slightly.

"POINT!" A woman's scream slammed time back together, and Clary fell back, exasperated as the boy on top of her was yanked up by an actual blade pressed against his neck, drawing upwards.

Simon obeyed weakly, leaning into the man that pressed the short sword across his chin, and raised his hands in surrender, knowing what would befall him if he didn't.

"TIE! Players back to start!" when no one moved the woman came running down the hill, ready to yank the children apart if she had to, "Jonathan let him go! I said no swords!"

He jerked away, and Simon fell, gasping for air. The older boy had half a thought to kick him while he was down, but thought better of it, looking off to the distance to where Jace stood. The other boy gave him a softer stare, and Simon noticed the way his team mates allowed their chance to strike while the two boys were distracted slip through their fingers. Often times, hitting while your opponent's back was turned was employed to gain an upper hand. It was also considered fairly cutthroat and dishonorable. Apparently Jonathan didn't care where his sister was concerned. Her safety was always first.

Rolling to his knees, Simon gasped as Jace helped the girl up and Jonathan kept their distance protected. Isabelle and Alec moved on from their own positions, and the once human boy recognized vaguely that they had entered a hunting pattern, except they weren't playing a game any longer. The Morgenstern boy and the Lightwoods, they were hunting him. Their strategic positions told him they defended Clary, and no force would allow him to get to her again, not with these two marking out the territory. His eyes darted to the blade that still hung in Jonathan's hand just as the boy turned to flash a predatory smile at him.

_**XOX**_

The graying woman plucked leaves from her granddaughter's fiery hair, easing the locks from their disheveled places, her wrinkled face scrunching with scrutiny. She would have much rather the girl stayed inside and read, clean and safe. Roughing it outside was uncalled for, but it made the child's heart soar. Adele wasn't one to crush her dreams and momentary happiness. Her grandson on the other hand was growing to be problematic. He was edgy again, snappish by the slightest altercation. She was worried he would actually cleave the Mundane boy the girl kept after that slight against his sister.

If she could tie nothing to the Morgenstern name, loyalty to the clan was highest, and Jonathan and Clary were the closest siblings she had ever known, bar the dark times in their childhood when Jonathan's condition wasn't being monitored.

"Jonathan, put the sword away. Clary's alright, look, see." In her arms, the child turned to look at her brother, eyes wide as the words reached her. The pale boy didn't look about to let it just drop, his shoulder's taught and his hand tightening on the hilt, raising the blade so slightly that no one would have noticed if their eyes weren't already trained on him. He began looking much like a viper about to strike.

The young girl wrenched out of her grandmother's arms, dashing forth before the worst happened. "Jonathan _**no!"**_

_**XOX**_

Jonathan couldn't help but seethe. How dare that bastard touch his little sister? Play or not, it was unforgivable. Cool on the surface, he searched out Jace, too far away to make any difference in his mood. Oh well.

This one's death would not be mourned by anyone but Clary, and even she would see the light once he set her straight. He would never ask permission. Hell, he rarely asked forgiveness, preferring to demand it, but for his sister he gave everything. His arm tightened, ready to strike the useless bastard down, just as something threw itself hard against his stomach.

Clary slammed against him, her arms wrapping around his chest as she took him down, shock rapidly spreading over his stoic face. The force was enough to upset the weapon in his hand as she flung herself down, settling in the thrush of new leaves, taking him with her as she twisted and dragged with her arms tight at his waist, and their hips collided against the soft leaves below with a muted crunch before he rocked hard, catching his balance poised over her.

Sitting up abruptly on his forearm, Jonathan towered over her, his face askew with confusion before he laughed heartily, his hand moving of its own volition to slick his hair back, a brilliant smile shining on his face. The act confused her, the switch was so quick she had no idea what had happened, but the darkness in his eyes was gone suddenly and she knew everyone was fine again, safe from her brother's wrath. Clary couldn't help but smile too; he was alright this time, despite everything her father had done to him. She would always make him alright, she had to. The thought of what she had to leave behind was ever present in her thoughts, and as Simon closed the distance between them again, Clary could feel his despair, ever present behind the life he had built up between them.

But everything was fine, it had to be. Because Jonathan needed her and always would. His hand caught in her hair, bringing his lips softly to her cheek, as he plucked more of the debris from her lovely hair.

Turning her face from the mundane boy that centered his world on her, she smiled at her brother, her hand brushing his silvery locks behind his ear gently, before pressing a kiss of her own to the side of his mouth, the lips twitching as the warmth made him smile brighter.

He was what hers revolved around, after all. Her very existence was just so that he would live on.

_**XOX**_

_**(Hours later, end match) **_

"Sloppy Simon." Clary sighed, zipping up her jacket indignantly before folding her arms back across her chest. Her tone was nagging, alight with superiority and a tad bit condescending, but it was alright, because she was just trying to help him, "You should have just ended it when you had me down."

She was swaying again, Simon noticed, with that elusive twitch to her hips he had yet to wrap his head around, and knew he was in trouble with her. He had irked her brother, causing her trouble again, and it didn't please her in the slightest.

The girl had chosen to take the short way home through one of many the thick corners of the woods, to her companions dismay, and her rush to get home and away from Simon was evident. She didn't even try to hide it as she let branches snap back at him and didn't offer him help as she flew over broken stumps and logs. "What if you had come across a succubus, Si? It would have devoured you."

"Yeah but I would have slept with it, first, so win- win." His tone seemed snappish despite the leveled nature he tried to deliver it in, leaving it to sound like a bitter comment. The girl paused to look at him in confusion, before turning away quickly, figuring that she just didn't want to deal with him and his issues today.

He attempted what he had seen pretty much everyone he had encountered since coming here do, and touched the girl's coppery hair, snagging a browning leaf from a curl and liberating it. Clary reeled back, whipping around as she slapped his hand away. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sheepishly, the boy held the maple leaf out for inspection, waving it slightly back and forth. She gave him a dark look, turning and marching away again, leaving him to follow her shadow weakly.

Simon, despite his significantly taller height, still struggled to keep up with the girl, especially the way she liked ducking and diving into brush. He could see that she was mad with him, but it went deeper than that. She had been cramped up inside for months and she'd been chomping away at the bit desperate to get out, and finally the adults let her do as she pleaded and begged for weeks for, and took them out for an outing. He had destroyed her perfect day outside, and for that he was sorry.

But she would have him begging before the day was done. That was how this family simply did things.

He could hear Jace and Jonathan conversing in whispers not far behind, the elder boy quick with his blade to just cut away the thick foliage they passed, whereas Clary was nimble enough to just twist and leap over things.

Then again, Clary was not contending with a twisted ankle like Jace was. Jonathan was simply being a gentleman. The thought made Simon smirk.

"You were getting tired. I was doing you a favor."

Rounding on him, she slugged him in the shoulder, "And you think Downworlders would give me a break, should I run? That they might let me rest, should I grow weary? That's not reality, Simon. The reality is they will turn that weakness on you in a moment."

She glared at him for several moments, waiting for his response. Nothing was forthcoming, so she turned on her heel and marched off, content that she had won this fight.

"You're wrong Clary," after several moments of silence came his voice, long after the girl had thought the argument had been won and was put to bed. "You're right to think that of Downworlders, which is why _**I**_ have to train, why Isabelle and Alec and Jace are all working like _**dogs**_ to be the best there is. We accept the reality for what it is, but you don't."

He laughed, a soft haunting noise that made her turn and watch as he continued past her towards the house, "We know we're all going to see the battlefield, which means we are going to need to be at our best so we can survive. But you Clary, you ought to focus on what makes you happy, because there's no way you'll _**ever **_have to strain yourself in a fight; your father and your brother will never let that happen. We are the Soldiers, Clary, and you are a Princess. So go on, lock yourself up in that room of yours and cry because life isn't fair and you can't always get your way, because that is reality, and you are ignoring it, not I."

The green-eyed beauty couldn't even find it in her to follow him again, standing with her shoulders hunched until the others had caught up with her, folding in like dough. Silently, she let her brothers and friends draw her away, though she wanted nothing more than to crumple in a heap on the forest floor and wait until some beast came to find her.

Simon had… snapped at her.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this matter. No one else had ever spoken to her that way, and she couldn't turn to any of her companions, either, because he already walked a tightrope over a deadly pit.

And below, she was certain there was the same monster that lurked in the woods for her.

Later, in the safety of her room when she was left alone would she ponder it and how she would respond to such blatant vicious truth, but not now. Now she put on the happy mask she hid behind because that too was reality. This world of hers had no room for doubt, no room for her confused emotions.

Everything she did and said was weighed against her, willing her to break and this would not break her. She would not let it.

She would rise above this, and when her mind was clear on her course she would follow through, true.

That was her reality.

_**XOX**_

"**Dogs, **huh?**" **Jace laughed in response, sidling up to the Lightwood boy. They walked so close that their body heat permeated through the layers of gear, their knuckles almost brushing against each other as they walked side by side in the tight hallway leading towards the office. This was the boys' first summons, and neither had any idea what to expect, but Alec had at least came here once before and Jace was looking to him for direction.

Alec had avoided this wing of the home since they were children. The way it was safeguarded and treated was that of a sanctuary; no one came or went without first being asked to. The only people he knew of to ever walk this hall were in fact Valentine, Jocelyn _(he assumed, though he had no real proof either way_), Maryse, and Jonathan. Even Clary was uninvited, and she was allowed everything she desired. He had been forced to come last time under duress, Jonathan had done something horrid to Clary and he was the only person to calm him at the time.

Now should that happen again, he had no doubt they would call for Jace.

"That's what Jonathan said. If he's training like a dog, what are we doing then, Alec? I can barely walk without limping." It was true too. The blonde-haired man had been stressing too much and Alec had definitely sprained his brother- in- arm's ankle in that last match, his muscles tightened with every step now. He was strong enough not to bitch about it, but the twitch in his face alerted Alec to the injury and the lack of rest the boy responded with was appalling. The fault lay with him and he yearned to help Jace, but was refused outright multiple times already. It would take much longer to mend without runes and without rest, but he kept promising both would be addressed later when he could attend to it.

Later appeared, Alec thought bitterly, when Jonathan would give him the time of day. He had done well to stave off the bitter comments that niggled in the forefront of his mind, shoving them down in order to maintain friendship with the boys, but this was getting ridiculous. Alec was of equal caliber or better than Jonathan when it came to iratzes, his hands much smoother and lighter at the task, and both boys knew it. The only one that beat them was Clary, who could hit you with a mark and you wouldn't even know it, but her healing powers were being withheld until they _**"learned to play nice with Simon." **_

The blue eyed boy could hear her nagging voice now. They could do without the best, and deal with sub par if it meant they could continue beating down the Mundie pet.

Reaching the door, both boys idled. They were hesitant, but knew they had to be punctual, and so Alec reached over and knocked three times and again they waited, on baited breath for a response.

None came from within, not even the rustle of movement. They looked at each other, looking for their next move. Neither were forthcoming, and tired of the silence, Jace took action as he always did, wrenching the door open with a rapid motion before Alec could stop him.

The boy shrugged, his eyebrow arched in a silent question as if to say _**'what next?'**_ as a movement darted inside the room too quick to see completely, but enough to seize the boy closest to the office.

A rat ran across Jace's foot and he shrieked like a woman, throwing himself against the wall as he went for his blade. The act made Alec bust a seam, slamming into the threshold as he tried to keep from toppling over in his mirth, and the rodent disappeared down the hall to safety. The taller boy punched him in the shoulder, but it was worth it, just having that image to keep him company. "I thought it was something threatening you jackass!"

"Oh yes, because the big, bad rat is often a bedtime tale told to children to keep them wandering into darkened corners of the house." His face cracked again, and Alec rubbed his watering eyes with the back of his arm, pushing into the room past Jace since he already took the first move and swung the door open to reveal an empty office. "Alright_**, Winston**_, get over it." Jace followed mutely, seething slightly from his embarrassment. His shoulders arched outward from his tense pose as he rounded through the entryway and into the massive office.

Alec went immediately to the desk, going to seat himself in one of the chairs placed out to make visitors at ease, which was a laughable attempt when there were no visitors that came here typically speaking, and he doubted anyone would feel comfortable with Valentine staring them down with his pitiless dark eyes from across the monstrous, empty desk. He hesitated, seeing a note with his name on it, the only clutter on the surface, and picked it up timidly. His eyes scanned it as Jace looked up and around the room in wonder.

Alec didn't blame him, it was a pretty miraculous room, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books running between seven pillars with two windows in the middle to light the room set behind Valentine's chair.

"Valentine says that we ought to make ourselves comfortable. I say we come back later. That's what would make me comfortable." Alec said looking around the room, tossing the note to the desk open. Something didn't sit well with him, and the longer he sat here, the worse he felt.

"Look." Jace's hand pointed to the vaulted ceiling where the wall went inward more than the rest of the wall of books, a secret single bookshelf running along the ceiling that neither boy could reach, about three feet across and between every two, a wide Corinthian column branched out in a flourish, an archaic symbol bored into the marble in the center of every other column, the outside two bare. The symbols were not anything Jace recognized, save the symbol he recognized to the way right hand side, the rune of angelic power. Beside it, in the middle, was what appeared to be a flower, a hibiscus perhaps, and all the way to the left side, a symbol that gave him a sense of dread, like he was drowning, almost having breached the surface, only to be drug even deeper. It looked like something crawling out of nightmares, and Jace turned away, towards Alec.

"I didn't see that shelf but..." he gulped grabbing Jace's sleeve, "We should probably go."

"C'mon, Alec. Aren't you curious at least?" he tried to goad him, and damn it, it almost worked. Alec was curious but not because it was out of their reach. The books were sequenced, marked in an archaic way that reminded him of the Grey Book they each had studied from in their early classroom studies, desperate to remember all of the symbols for later. Alec had good memory, and knew the binding well, most of the runes tucked away in his mind for later use. The books were all bound in a similar fashion, hand sewed with canvas overlaying the spine, rich gold gilding the symbols that were so familiar, but so different that he couldn't understand them.

"No," came his response, though it was a blatant lie, "and I don't think we- hey are you listening to me, Jace! Get DOWN from there!"

The boy turned, caught in the act and smiled, as he reached to climb higher on the bookcase. The shelf he hunted was a good foot and a half above his head, and Alec had no doubt he intended to climb, "If you're that worried, come help me."

Alec stood torn, and after several moments, rushed to his brother in arms, helpless when it came to the boy. He was asking for his help, and damn it, he was not one to deny Jace of all people.

He hated being the obedient one all the time, anyway.

The bookshelf seemed sturdy enough to hold both of their combined weights, but he wanted to be safe, and staggered himself a shelf over to balance his weight. Rubbing his hands together to warm up the muscles in his palms, he leapt upward, catching the side of a column and a shelf edge.

It was slow moving. He was right to check the security of the unit, because once they got about five feet off the ground, they found that every move needed to be taken in tandem, the unit swaying ever so softly and only growing the further they advanced without each other; even still maintaining equal distance the unit swayed uncontrollably, but at least it seemed grounded enough. Nearly a half hour had passed, and they had only progressed maybe halfway. If Jace were to stand on his shoulders, maybe they would just be able to-

A noise down the hall alerted them that Valentine approached, his footsteps heavy and pounding in the small hallway. Jace swore under his breath, and let go of the ledge, dropping with a hard jolt to land on his feet. Alec only had moments to let go as well, as the counterweight disappeared and the tall shelving began to lean away from the wall, threatening to crush them both beneath it.

The black-haired boy hit harder than Jace had, having been a good two shelves above him, just as the man in question opened the door.

Valentine looked quizzically to them both in turn, taking in the way both boys seemed to be mildly out of breath, and the way Alec seemed to favor his one foot over the other. Jace seemed shaken as well, but he stood tall and proud, just as he raised him to do in the face of authority, and the look turned to suspicion when his adopted son did not greet him or look him in the eye.

"What have you two been up to?"

The two children stood before the male man, trembling, their eyes cast away from him so he couldn't see what was in their heart of hearts. Jace was first to find his tongue, and he whispered a half- hearted, "Nothing."

The silence reigned over them, as Valentine dissected their stances, the tightening of the hands that clutched on to one another, desperate for that last contact. They seemed to fold inward the longer he watched, giving everything away by the way they stood, and his own theories on what had occupied the children without him there to guide them. Nodding finally, the man went to the desk drawers, and pulled out a pad of paper and a quill, taking his seat and gesturing to the leather-backed seats rigid before him, "Let's begin, then."

It brought him great satisfaction to see the children that he knew lied to him limp heavily around the desk to take seats in the awfully crafted furniture before his desk. With a smile, he went about his business, allowing the intruders to believe they had gotten away Scott-free.

For now, at least.

_**XOX**_

_**"And the rat left the scattered bits of the little girl's flesh throughout the walls. The end." **_Jace finished up from beneath the elder boy.

Jonathan sat perch atop his brother, his hands tightening and twisting away the tension in his finely muscled back in an agitated manner that Jace didn't seem to notice. His cool palms grasped the spine along the underside of his ribs and shifted, wrenching a sharp pop and a gasp of pleasure from the boy.

Jace couldn't help but purr, turning to look over his shoulder to the pale boy seated on his hips, "So what do you think?"

The older boy's mouth fell agape. What did he think of it? He had demon blood coursing through his veins and he couldn't formulate that horrid of a story. The boy stared at him, expecting a standing ovation, but all Jonathan could do was stare in horror at the face that smiled so innocently over his shoulder, the head which had formulated and offered this cutthroat tale up as bed time story.

Jonathan regretted trading massages for stories. He doubted he was even going to be able to sleep now. Damn it all, he couldn't even throw Jace out, not unless he wanted the boy to be very upset with him.

His silence spurred the other boy on, dejectedly so, as he turned his face to muffle into the pillow, "If that wasn't good enough, I could tell you another one. Oh I got it, this one I call how the wolf rapes-"

"NO!" the cry came out faster than he intended, his large, cool hands slipping beneath the pillow and seized the boy's offending lips. He would not endure another of the boy's actively morbid fantasies. Not if he could manage it.

The warmth of his lips moving beneath his palm sent a sharp chill down the pale boy's spine. He had taken everything of the boy he could bring himself to ask for, and Jace had given it willingly enough for his liking, but still he desired more. It made Jace feel off, he could see as much every time he touched him more than brief kisses, even still after months of the same routine. Every time he beat the shit out of Alec and Jace, and every night the boy crawled back to him for Jonathan to fix him.

His hand traveled from cupping the full lips down his throat, gently as he messaged the soft and tender flesh there. And to his suspicion, Jace twinged away from his loving caress, the act second nature to him, he knew, but it didn't mean it didn't tear Jonathan's heart.

No one loved him, certainly not his father, not Jace, and not Clary. He was a monster- who could love something so malevolent beneath the surface.

Jonathan rolled off the boy, allowing him room to breathe. He seemed too far backed into a corner, like he was about to strike out at any moment, and that was farthest from what the black-eyed boy wanted. Jace squirmed out of the gap he had allowed him, going to the opposite side of the bed to curl up and pin him with that stare of his that told Jonathan he wanted nothing else to pass between them. It made his heart wrench. Reaching out, his finger brushed the hand that clutch the pillow in front of Jace's nose, catching his pinky finger with his index.

"If you come back, I'll make it worth your while." The look he gave promised comfort and affection but Jace didn't budge a muscle. Jonathan thought better of the offer and he pulled the despondent boy to him, keeping him from fleeing as he let the boy occupy the majority of his chest.

His fingers curled up in the gold locks, and he felt the boy's fingers hand tighten over his heart, tucked beside his face as he breathed out rapidly, "Why?"

The eyes watched him, ever the timid creature in this relationship. Instead of a response, he drew the boy forward to press his lips against the corner of his mouth tenderly, "Kiss me, and I will tell you. I asked for your all, and you give me nothing. So give me your favor, and I will move the world for you."

Jace shook as he moved, shifting his weight so it centralized in his abdomen, weighing his options. He appeared so at war with himself, that Jonathan just about threw him out of the room. He didn't want the boy's apprehension. The thought died out, as the warm fingers on his chest pressed down, pressure and significant weight on it as Jace leaned over Jonathan, his breath wispy gales across his neck.

His soft lips melded against Jonathan's in a wet seal, not a romantic kiss in anyway, though it gave Jonathan a sense of victory and loss all at the same time. He wanted the boy's heart, like he had once desired his sister's. He had realized it for some time now, but he was no closer to gaining it. Jace distanced himself constantly, and perhaps it was for the best. He couldn't hurt his angel boy if he drew far enough away.

"Get out."

The sound of his own voice startled him, the abruptness of it abrasive to his sensitive ears that had grown accustomed to soft and gentle whispers of prodding to Jace and the responding soft whimpers and sighs that escaped the other boy when he was unhinged. He could feel the desire to destroy him, to defile him in a way that there would be no way to come back from. He wanted Jace to love him, to a desperation that he would steal whatever affection he could. If anything should happen to him, the boy wouldn't forgive, he wouldn't forget.

He was of Clary's kind, but he wasn't Clary.

Jace was stronger, and much less likely to forgive his misdeeds.

The other boy whipped back, or perhaps he had shoved him off, he wasn't entirely sure. He could feel rage burning at his insides, much like the way paper curled when you let it too close to an open flame before it caught ablaze. Jace's bright amber eyes stared back hurt and full of disbelief as Jonathan withdrew entirely, sitting up away from him with his back to him, his feet already searching for the floor.

"Hey- Wha- Why.. Jonathan stop!"

The rapid abruptness had him frightened. Jonathan was nothing but sure in his actions, he always had been. The boy turned dark eyes on him, and Jace's chest tightened in a mix of fear and hurt, knowing that he had somehow caused this, though he couldn't wrap his head around the how.

A hand clamped around his wrist, dragging him out of bed. The blanket that had been tucked around him fell away to the floor as he stumbled along behind him half naked and confused, his arm taught from being pulled along.

"Because no one ever walks away from me. Because the way to overcome great evil is to love something that is equally good." Jonathan murmured, knowingly with a rough scratchiness to his voice that threatened tears, before he pulled Jace against him, devouring him. The kiss was heated, and vicious, in a way that Jonathan hadn't been with him since Clary had been added to the mix. It was desperate and dismissing, like a final goodbye, full of teeth that punished him for unknown misdeeds and a darting tongue that spoke forgiveness almost immediately after, and the innocent boy couldn't wrap his head around why this was all happening. When they broke, Jace could taste blood, could feel the rawness of his lips and knew there must be a break, and his gaze fell to his offenders guarded one. Jonathan's eyes were bright again, the deep emerald green returning around the pupils showing that they were definitely dilated, almost to the point of being pinpricks.

The door opened beside him and the older boy pulled away again, distancing his body and his heart by steeling his gaze, looking away from him to the fire across the room as if it would give him strength, "And because you walk away, I know you _**are**_ what is best for me. So walk away Jace, and take the damn darkness with you."

Jace pulled away, shocked and hurt, refusing to leave, and gave Jonathan no other choice. He had to be rid of him now, before he did anything else unforgivable, and he seized the softer boy and rushed him out of the room by his bicep and shoved him unceremoniously into the cold hallway.

The wide- eyed boy could do nothing as the warmth shut behind the door, locking him away from it and the boy within as he wrapped his arms around his chest hoping to keep what remained close, the last image playing in his mind the hurt look on Jonathan Morgenstern's face, the way the fire had caught and illuminated his pale hair like a burning halo and the weakness in his frame as the door shut between them, cutting them away from each other. Weakly, Jonathan fell to the floor, sliding against the slab, just as Jace tested the solidity, trying to press back inside where his life had been cozy and content. There was no give, just as there was none in the resolve Jonathan held as his world crumbled around him.

The chill in the hall forced him to move on. He had to go somewhere, perhaps put clothes on, and get on with sleep. On auto-pilot, he moved against his own will back to his bedroom, intent to see the night out alone, his insides turning to ice with every step he took away.

_**XOX**_

Jonathan slid down the closed door, clutching at his sides as a sob ripped from deep inside his chest. He could already feel the darkness within ebbing to the surface.

The door shook behind him, and he knew Jace was trying to get back in. Too bad, he was not about to let him see him like this.

Eventually, Jace gave up, and went away. Jonathan shivered,, cold on the floor, but was so unwilling to go to bed alone or get up at all, for that matter.

The chill eased the pain, and he couldn't care less as he began to cry, drawing his knees up to his chest, his face falling to the knobby joints. It warmed him enough that he could wallow a bit longer where he was.

The cries woke Clary, he could hear her shifting around in her bedroom, could feel her footfalls as she ran about the room, this way and that. He knew she battled internally, to come here, to soothe him and forgive as she always had, the evil wretchedness he was disposed to act on, or to return to bed and forget she had heard him. She paced, and her brother closed his eyes, crying harder.

She wouldn't forgive him, couldn't. He was too wicked. He had to push these two sweet, innocent people as far as he could from him before he did something irreparable to them.

Silently, there came a soft knock on the door, and Clary immediately tried opening it as she often did, only to find it would only give a few inches, his weight against it forcing it to halt not far into swinging inward.

"Jonathan?" her voice was soft and raspy, as her fingers slid between the gap the door had allowed, searching for what blocked her way, anything that she might move to get inside. Her fingertips brushed the cold, bare flesh of his shoulder, scorching it with her warmth before it slid down his arm to his bent elbow, as far as she could reach, feeling the trembling skin as he cried silently now. "It's alright, Jonathan, I'm here now."

It wasn't alright, and it never would be. He was destroying her, destroying Jace, every time he stole from them. He desired love he was unworthy of, and they sacrificed it to him nightly, hoping to keep a facade alive

Eventually, he would let her in, crawl after into bed and let her hold him to her chest as she often did over the years, increasingly as their lives progressed. Eventually he would let her warm him and kiss him and tell him everything would be alright. She would lie and he would listen, because he wanted it all to be true.

He wanted to be the boy she saw, the one that deserved affection and obtained it willingly and freely. But now he would try to be her brother and not a starving man hungry for flesh and rabid for love.

Right now he would try to protect her from the world, and himself and the darkness that wrapped around them. Right now, he would be her big brother and protect him from himself.

His hand fell away with her insistence, and her fingers wrapped around his affectionately through the door. He was losing himself to her will and her wishes, even if she naively didn't understand what they were. He would let her win, so she would be happy, and he would eventually destroy her.

But right now, he was still her brother, and he could protect her from himself.

Leaning his head back again, he cried louder again, as the despair overtook him. He could feel Clary, her worry bubbling over as she pressed closer to the door, her eyes falling shut. She knew there was no saving him, she must.

He wouldn't let her sacrifice everything she was to save him.

_**XOX**_

The morning was wrought with unease. Alec was being summoned again and had woken up to a slumbering Jace, cradling him around the waist like he was the most important thing in his life. The blonde had the most serene expression on his face, and his full lips were inviting, despite the mild injuries that they had sustained from the night before, bruised and cracked even after several reapplied iratzes. He was the loveliest of sights to wake up to, even if Alec had to remind himself that this was temporary and unwelcome.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

Vaguely the boy recalled opening the door sometime past midnight to a bleary- eyed Jace and having the other boy crawl uninvited into his bed where he took hold of his pillow and held it tightly to his chest, crying into the pillow cover.

Now Alec unwrapped himself from the very unwilling blonde, and tucked him in with a deep sigh.

Why couldn't the boy just sleep in his own damn bed? Or Jonathan's, or Clary's, if he had no other option? He was too busy playing the lovelorn best friend. He didn't have time for mixed signals being thrown his way from the object of his affections.

Jace threw himself towards the now empty side of the mattress, searching blindly for him before he settled down with Alec's pillow clutched to his chest again as he curled in a fetal position.

Shaking his head, Alec left his bedroom silently, leaving a note for Isabelle wedged in the door jam in case she came to rouse him before he returned to deal with the boy.

_**XOX**_

The air was much thicker than Alec could ever remember it being, as Valentine stared at him with his black eyes. He shut the door because he had to, but regretted it as the pressure collapsed over him

Valentine settled the grey leather, gilded book in question before the boy's seat. He gestured that he ought to take it, but Alec shook his head, remaining planted firmly where he stood, his hand grasping the door handle as if he could command enough strength to flee.

"What's this, too shy to take something when it's presented to you? If you'd like, I can go and leave you to read it in peace." His tone struck Alec as condescending and challenging.

The moment passed between them in silence, and Alec stepped up briskly and picked up the book mutely, turning it around idly in his hands as he understood that Valentine knew exactly what had passed between he and Jace while they waited for their morning directives yesterday. He doubted that this was anything but a trap, one he was walking into willingly by being gloated well enough, but he couldn't lose face. He watched him, not trusting him for a moment, his friend's father, as Valentine stood up from his seat, and went to stand beside the window.

"You ought to read it. I find it a thrilling piece myself."

"Why?" the pale boy's voice came out broken, knowing he didn't want to hear the answer, but too proud not to ask for the answer to the niggling question that wrapped itself around his heart.

His hands flipped the book around in his hands, admiring the workmanship that went into the binding, from the silver leather cover to the gold leafing embedded in its surface, an elegant swirling of lines that formed what he once thought was a flower blooming, but could now see it was something else entirely: wings unfurling.

The sunlight outside illuminated the man's face as he drew the curtain aside, looking out. It was a habit he shared with his son, the boy realized and Alec didn't have to wonder what the man looked to, as a small smile passed his lips in the exact same manner it did on Jonathan, and he glanced away from Clary, as it had to be her that affected these men in the exact same way every time, to someone nearby who was with her.

His jaw tightened drastically as he began to speak again, "You are intelligent. The best of your generation, I would wager. It is why your mother has pressed you and my son together, but I fear there is not enough to keep the two of you together. You are, however involved in our business, and so I cannot let you simply slip away, nor the opportunity you represent."

Those dark pitiless eyes turned to him then, taking away his breath, "You are not here to be punished. I have never thought that you would be so daring to steal from me, but I am not one to halt progression of one's knowledge. People have called me a zealot, a mad- man, a monster against my own kind. But I have done much to help our people, even if it was against our nature and traditions. I liberated our people, and I guide them towards a better tomorrow, because that is my lone responsibility. I would have your brilliant mind lend me a hand in the occasions that I need it most, Alec, as well as your silence on the matters I seek you out for. In payment, you are free to delve into my life's work and every book here, that journal before you included. I withhold nothing now, knowing you will keep our secret."

As an afterthought, he smiled at the boy, the look setting askew on his normally well sculpted features. He could see how so many had fallen in line with Valentine Morgenstern- he was a charming man, and the way he spun words had him going in circles, and Alec considered himself fairly intelligent. "Not that you have much of a choice on the matter, but I would like you to think it over."

"That is all I ask of you this day. Go, contemplate my offer and what it would bring you and your kin." He leaned backward, his hands digging deep into his pockets as he watched the boy. Alec felt like he was being dismissed, and thanked the man for his time before turning stiffly and moving away, the book tucked delicately beneath his underarm.

"Oh, and Alexander."

Alec turned abruptly, clinging to the tome with a sense of urgency and care. "Feel free to make your own notes, should you think I got anything wrong."

He nodded, and closed the door as silently as he could, rushing away. He could feel the pull of Morgenstern's thin lips, his hollow laugh from down the hall as he escaped to his room, the hallways growing frigid as the haunting noise chased after him, reminding him that there really was no corner of the world that Valentine Morgenstern could not reach.

That thought alone was humbling enough that he barely noticed that Jace had gone on his own by time Alec returned to his bedroom, deciding it was a bad enough day already to call it a day even though the sun had just started breaching the horizon, and returned to his covers with the journal he had been gifted and charged.

He could already feel the cold clasp of chains around his neck, tugging him down as he just opened the cover.

_**XOX**_

It had been months now, and Maryse had crawled over the vast continent so that she knew enough of the dangers that lurked in the valleys and the hills, and the clear path the middle offered for travel. It was dangerous as well, however, because the middle-land was clearly a battleground that represented a challenge to the ruling clan, and that challenge had both sides rushing forward to re-establish the hold on the land whenever anyone passed into it.

The villagers outside the western wall had tried to stop her, too. They had told her dreadful tales of the monsters that ruled this land, and viciously struck out against man and Nephilim alike blindly if you ventured too far North or East. They told her the tales of Juro- Gumo, Yuki- Onna and of Tsuchi- Gumo whom the natives had warned might drag her away to feed upon as often they were known to do, to vastly different, but equally horrifying ends. They were women well-spoken of, perhaps respected as well, but each struck fear in the mortal men that urged her to stay enough that the wall had been a line drawn out for them that they would not pass. None of them had run after her as she pushed towards the wilderness to the north.

She had long grown tired of the beasts that ruled these lands. If it were not for the child she sought, she would have set the whole place ablaze. But somewhere, there was a young girl running a muck, pumped full of demonic blood that made her one of the beasts she so abhorred. By now she had learned the difference between the Lycans in Europe and their counterparts Kitsu in Asia and their vastly different nature and what both threatened when she came too near and how disastrous it was to mistake one for the other; she had stumbled upon Kappa and Tengu whom had tried to rip her apart and saw with her own eyes the blaze of the phoenix light up the night sky as it burned a trail across the darkness, giving her light when no moon stood to guide her.

Maryse looked hopefully around as she trudged along, praying that she might come upon the Chinese beasts, but none strayed so close that she might interact with them. They seemed to be wise enough when danger was imminent. Still, what she would have given for something she could cut through with little to no challenge. These Nihon demon-borne were too intelligent. No wonder the native monsters were losing ground.

The search was beginning to be such a drag that Maryse hadn't believed her eyes when the least of the harmful beasts of the land went charging forth past her, a black dog that shot across the sky to blot out the moon before it fell elegantly in a spiraling twist that rolled its back legs away from its front in it's descent to the ground.

With no other leads, the black-haired woman rushed tiredly after it. Surely it meant something had happened.

Very few things could disrupt the legendary Tiangou from its ritual dance with the sky after all.

The sight she was met with floored her, however, and Maryse fell to the ground rather than running headfirst willingly into a blood- slaughter.

_**XOX**_

Running along the ancient wall, a small girl laughed darkly, as she used her superior speed to dispose of her enemies. The Kitsune and the Tiangou monsters had crept too close to her home again, and for that she would not forgive them. She had infinite disdain for shape- shifters and lycanthrope a like, though they were the only other creatures that dared to come near her, the only ones that could ever be her friends, or dare to threaten her for authority over her land. The entire continent was over-run by them now, and they were struggling to gain more ground for their respective clans, but they would not cross this land. The only soul that would walk those walls would be hers. The only beast within the towers would be the one that lurked beneath her flesh.

A female shape- shifter came at her with all she was worth, throwing teeth and claw at her face and throat as the petite, bronze- fleshed girl tossed the corpse of another fox away. With a twist the girl leapt out of dangers way just in time for the claws that had been outstretched for her heart impacted with the earth, and the girl landed with her thigh's against the beast neck holding fast and tight, and in an instant, all that remained of the black blue-haired fox woman was a corpse with its head spun halfway around, half- changed.

The Tiangou got the message, and turned away to return another day. She let it be this time, knowing the black dogs would always return and she would get the chance again later to deal with their filth. They were the messengers of war after all, and a fight was always on her horizon.

Nothing was left on the plains now, save for the human woman she smelled not far off, observing her. She had watched everything, and the young girl waited for her to come at her like any other enemy. She simply watched, absorbing her like a flower might rain, and it disturbed her. What sort of creature sat and waited? Surely one of great intelligence. It must be strategizing.

The wind caught and stirred up their hair enough that the woman looked like a raven flame had devoured the ground where her face laid in the thick marsh land's brambling greenery.

Dropping to the ground, the girl began to run through the thick brush and grasses, nearly disappearing entirely. Surely the woman would lose interest in what she could no longer see.

_**XOX**_

With a cry, Maryse darted after the child, trying to soothe her into staying. She seemed startled before she took off, like a deer in the headlights. The chase was only momentary; the elder woman could only see that she headed in this direction. That would not help her anymore since the child disappeared into the tall grasses and shrubs that dotted along and grew in mass to separate the hill from the Great Wall from the marshland.

It was the child that reemerged crawling over the wall that showed her the path to follow, the minor changes in the foliage that let her give chase again. She could see her small black eyes dart back to look at her, just as she disappeared again from sight to the safety over the wall.

Well safe enough, she supposed, for a girl that lived among monsters and beasts.

The climb was slower than anticipated. The rock was decaying in spots, and her significantly heavier form took away chunks of the stone bricking that stayed the elements for millennia. Once she emerged, her arms burned from holding her own body up, sometimes one handed, against the sharp wall. She dropped to her knees, taking shuttering breaths that rasped on the intake like she had strained her lungs as well in her efforts. She suddenly felt so weak and tired, like she could lay down here for a while under the stars.

Leaning back to sit on her calves and the toes of her knee-high boots, she wiped at her face as she pulled her hair up and out of her sweat-dripping face, hoping the act would cool her.

A noise drew her attention to the open mouth of one of the tower's doorways, to the delicate child she hunted, her hands tight in her torn dress as she pulled the wreckage she wore up to expose her dirty, knobby knees.

Before Maryse could formulate a plan or call out to her, the girl bolted away again with only the momentary hesitation that allowed the Shadow- hunter woman to get a good enough look at her. She was healthy and strong for a kid left to rot in this hell hole.

Not willing to lose her again, she pushed past the pain, and stumbled after her, her footfalls loud as she splashed in puddles that muddled along the path of the wall and up into the tower keep.

The thin, dark skinned girl crawled over the rubble in the stairwell, melding and becoming one with the shadows. The moon lit her in flashes, the light hardly reaching her as she ascended the staircase. She was one with the shadows, and as Maryse chased after her, she found herself chasing illusions as well as the child. She saw her jump from windows and dart back past her in the staircase, only to see her dart off to one of the landings that lined the spiral case. Catching sight of her dark hair waving on the wind, the elder woman rushed forward, crashing down one of the abandoned halls.

The act left her breathless and hot again, and she immediately regretted following so blindly, for thinking the child that had fell two Kitsune and scarred off the Tiangou was anything but cunning and capable of protecting herself. The mother in her, however cried out, as she saw the child crash into a tall, ominous creature with a thin, pale and lanky body that was garbed in a pitch-black bustled dress that sharply bound her waistline to practically nothing. The hit jostled the dark-haired girl, as she turned wide eyes upward, and the woman looked down unmoved in her position, a wickedly sharp smile spreading across her entire jawline and her blood red lips gave way in the smirk, as four thin arms that terminated in five razor-like fingertips that raised the hair on the woman's neck rested against the child's arms and shoulders, holding her where she hit.. They resembled the tips of a spider's-

Instinct cried for her to escape, but she could not will her body to respond when a child was so close to danger. "Juro- Gumo- sama!"

Sincerely, Maryse dreaded that she had to come across this particular beast right now when she tried to soothe the girl. She was the one creature to truly give her the creeps, and in the tower keep, she could now see the finely spun webs that covered the walls around them catching the moonlight as they shimmered delicately, a poor creature off in the corner bound and beyond help.

The tall, beautiful woman stood proudly upright, a sharp pitch to her hip line that jutted the bustle out sharply, with her hands clasped before her on the soft shoulders of the girl that the Shadow Hunter woman had chased for hours now. She gazed coldly to where Maryse had entered the room with hollow and solid black eyes, a malevolent smile on her face. The girl she pressed to her pitch black gown turned her face upwards, looking up to the woman that held her, a smile reaching her eyes and Maryse took a tentative step backwards, realizing she should get herself as far away from here as she could, "Haa-Haa. Eat?"

The woman laughed darkly, the melody eerie through the cold room, "No, my child. You do not eat your own kind."

The spider woman plucked the lacy dress away from her knee and came down to the level with the child. The bustle jolted outward, like a spider's abdomen, much like Maryse expected it to, hard and thorax-like in its shell-like layering, the lacy and hard layers like that of a shell over her backside. The tall woman reached upwards, caressing the girl's long, filthy hair lovingly, "You've done well, child."

"Juro- Gumo- sama. I implore you; let the girl go, do not devour her. I have been sent by her kin to-"

"Juro- Gumo indeed." The laugh that erupted from the woman tore through to Maryse's very soul, "That is but one name I go by, none of which you are important enough to pronounce. How dare you, little Shadow- hunter, insinuate that I would eat my own child. My daughter is my entire world."

_**Mother..?**_ Looking between the two, Maryse could tell they were not mother and daughter, too many differences stark in the way they were built, but they shared the same malicious aura, a hungry flickering that reminded her of Jonathan in his darkest hours, when he truly lost himself. She breathed out, suddenly careless, "You're not her mother."

"I am as good as." The wicked pull returned to her face, and the razor teeth flashed at her as she laughed, a guttural sound that made her teeth snap together over and over like scissors closing, "And you are a liar, Maryse Lightwood."

The sound of her name on the monster's tongue had her shaken more than the noises it emitted.

"Fret not," her voice lulled and she stood again, her rise imperial in nature, "I know why you come. How is our Valentine Morgenstern these days? Well, I hope, for the sake of the son at least."

A breeze whipped through the empty room, catching all three sets of raven hair and whipping them off to the side. Her hair blindsided her blue eyes, blocking out the girl she was there to collect and the woman that stood in her way.

"Valentine sends his regards, but he requires the girl now." She knew there was no amount of lying she could pass now, the creature before her knew everything, somehow. The viciousness to her had Maryse second guessing every moment she remained here.

"Come, eat with us," the black-eyed woman waved her hand, summoning a feast over the slab in the corner, where, to Maryse's horror, sat the silk-wrapped husk of the poor victim whom must have been the last to venture here, and she gestured that the armor- clad woman ought to sit, to partake, as the child squealed her excitement, darting towards a pile of various succulent fruits, vibrant greens, with pink and pale yellow spread about in rind. Her tiny fingers delved into the pile, selecting what Maryse would normally have taken to be a red sea urchin, large and dangerous spines rolling against the child's small, frail hands. She struggled to break it open and gave a sharp cry as one sharp spine punctured her finger, drawing blood.

"Give me the durian, child, before you hurt yourself." Juro- Gumo extended her hand, the long and dangerous claws that had no definitive end as they glistened black from tip to palm where they faded to flesh once more, the unfurling motion reminded her that this woman was demon above all else, and the girl stumbled towards her and timidly set the large, spiked melon in the woman's hands, her hands pushing away the locks that fell in her eyes. The wicked woman made short work of the rind, her nails like blades against the rind, and she returned it cracked open like a coconut with a sigh, the girl bouncing and grunting excitedly.

Once it returned to her, her fingers delved into the mushed grouping of flesh in the fruit, and smashed it to her face, red juices like blood smearing over her full lips as she gorged herself on the fruit. The over powering smell of rotting flesh took her by surprise, and Maryse let her eyes dart to the summoned meal, wondering what could possibly have made such a dreadful stench.

Juro- Gumo watched silently, her hands clasping each other before her, as she closed her eyes, listening to the sound of her daughter devouring all she could. Maryse approached the slab of food, and selected a small loaf of bread, bringing it to her nose to inhale the earthy scent of whole-grains, wondering if perhaps it was poisoned. She leaned on the edge of the make- shift table, watching the two mistrustfully, refusing to turn her back on either. The young girl turned her bright, black eyes to her and her tiny fist held out a chunk of the fruits flesh.

She lost her appetite. The fruit smelled like death, and she couldn't understand how the girl would pick that to eat when perfectly good food presented itself. When she refused the food, the girl climbed onto her lap, plopping heavily down with her calves cradling the hard leather on her thighs, and smashed the fruit to her full lips and into her mouth with a sharp grunt, "Ah! AHHHHHH!"

The initial response was to reject the food as the fingers curled against her tongue, and her stomach surged angrily before the scent was replaced with the wondrous taste. It was the most unique thing she had ever eaten, though bitter around the end, it began sweet and creamy with the texture of a mango.

"She turned ten several months ago. You only come now to claim her?"

"Valentine said as much. I only recently came to know of her, but if she is ever to be a Shadow Hunter, she must be marked soon. We have a limited amount of time to pass this mark on to her."

"My child does not belong to you or your kind. She is mine and mine alone." The woman sat in one of the elegantly gilded chairs beside her dried- out victim, her legs crossing as she tilted her head into her open palm, pin straight hair falling over her thin shoulders. She watched with interest clear on her white face with her inked out eyes intent on her daughter's interactions, "She likes you. She does not share her food with any one. Well, she did with her mother, once, but that was after she was long dead. Poor thing had no idea what had happened when I came across her, she just kept shrieking, holding onto her dead mother."

Maryse found herself wondering what had happened to the Shadow- hunter parents that bore her into this world. They had been friends once, well sort-of. They had shared the same ideals, followed Valentine to his assumed position before they had fled, and Maryse had heard nothing from or of them after their betrayal, had no idea that a child had been born. A wicked smile spread over the monster's lips as she turned, eyes dark gleaming as she announced, "She ate them. I thought you ought to know. That was the last human that she has seen, the last man she has devoured. I wonder, if perhaps that's why she brought you to me."

The chill returned full force as the small girl wrapped her arm around the armored woman's waist; her head resting over her heart as her other hand pulled the pulp from the fruit and force fed another piece to her before munching happily on a hunk herself, the juice smacking on her lips.

"You might try your hand with her." The woman drawled darkly, "I will not make such a decision for my daughter. Though she is no longer one of your kind, I will not take that option away from her. Good luck, on your venture, little Nephilim. You are going to need it."

Turning to where the woman sat, she was about to ask what she meant, only to notice that the woman had gone, leaving a black smoke dissipating on the wind where she had been.

_**XOX**_

Alec threw the book as far across the table as he dared, horror taking him deeply.

One of the many baby pictured of his sister that his mother kept on the mantle at their home in Alicante smiled back at him, his toddler arms wrapped around the small infant, presenting her as if she were a present.

Isabelle had been a present. It was the truth; she was the glue that kept their family together for as long as they had, but she was also the wedge that had thrown them apart too.

His sweet sister had been the crowning achievement to their parents; she was beloved from day one. She had been the one to catch her mother with Valentine, the one to naively tell what she had seen to their father and everyone else that would listen.

But now he had brought to light the meaning of what had been said that day.

"_**You've turned my own children against me. Made them like his."**_

"_**It's what we all must strive tomorrow; this is the future."**_

It made more sense now. Often times he saw something lurk behind his sister's dark gaze, like she was calculating a situation in an over- processed way he couldn't understand, and wondered where she had gotten such an unusual coloring any way. For generations, their family had the same blue eyes, and she was the first to bear black-brown, though they were rimmed with her mother's darker sapphire hue.

Skimming further, he caught other phrases of interest. '_**Heightened sexual tendencies…?'**_

_His sister was not a whore._

She wasn't, she had no comprehension yet of sex and as her brother, it enraged him that Valentine, who was practically a stranger would make such a blatantly mean statement. He knew nothing of Isabelle or what lay in her heart.

His hand ran violently over the page, over and over and over again until he couldn't feel the rage anymore. The offending book was covered by time he was done, scratching his script repetitiously over the page in red ink, and when he could fit no more, turned to the blue ink, and then black.

He would need to channel this rage into something before he did something he would later regret.

_**Isabelle was not a whore**__**.**_

With disgust, he slammed the cover shut, and stormed back the office to abandon the offending journal in the once- again empty room before going to go find Jonathan to practice.

He needed to kill something now, and beating the shit out of Valentine's son would do him well.

_**XOX**_

Turning, Maryse held her hand outward, asking for the girl's hand once more. She turned to glare, not trusting the kid anymore, and demanded obedience. She would have floored her children if they acted the way she did.

It had been days now and she had made no leeway with the girl. She could not take her with her, nor could she leave her be. She had been ordered to make her one of their people, and report the changes.

The girl was making it difficult, however. She was content to run a muck like a wild- child.

Maryse was tired of chasing after her too. She wanted this to be done with. She had half a mind to just take the girl home with her and figure out how to force her mark on her later in the safety of Idris where the spider- woman would not hope to follow them.

Somehow she knew that that was not a choice she had. She doubted that Juro- Gumo would let the child go. This was her daughter, she had convinced herself of such, and Maryse knew no force on earth would take either Alec or Isabelle from her, so why would the spider monster be any different?

No she would have to figure something else out.

"Give me the picture, child." Her voice was wrought with strife, but the curious child held fast to the picture frame, drinking in the people in the portrait she had left safely behind in Alicante. When she looked at the older female, she could see faint fear in her eyes, as she wrenched the precious object away from her.

"Okaa- dare desu kaaaa?" her dainty hand twisted against the frame as she lost a hold of it to Maryse's stronger grip, and her pudgy finger pressed questioningly to the boy and girl smiling like twins beside each other. They looked much like her.

"They are my children. They are very dear to me." Her eyes were distant

"Chi-eld?" Her sweet voice chirped, and Maryse looked to the black-eyed girl, saw how innocently she tilted her head as she tested out the word, pointing to her chest.

"Yes, I suppose you are one of my children too, now."

A sweet smile spread over her lips, and Maryse tried to remember that despite everything, this girl was simply another mission, and she had the same evil blood that was in Jonathan.

She fell to the ground with another glance to the photograph, and began drawing dreamily in the dirt, a happy play of stick figures dancing about that the woman could recognize was a fantastical idea of the girl playing with other children.

_**My children. **_The thought had tightened her heart painfully, _**she desires companionship.**_

But her innocence made it so easy to forget, to forgive her wicked nature and love her. It made Maryse wonder, offhandedly, if Jonathan perhaps was made wicked by his father, and not nature as he claimed. It was a thought for another day, when she was far from here, returned to her daughter and son. Somehow, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right now, however.

Yes, she would have to expedite this mission soon. She was finding herself empathetic to this demon- child. It would only lead to her undoing.

_**XOX**_

Days melded into almost two weeks of being left alone as the girl's sole parental figure now and Maryse had nothing to show for it and no sign of the monster's return. That wasn't precisely true; she was gaining the girl's affections. She had those.

Maryse doubted that given enough time, she would have the girl following her home to Alicante and the world beyond, desperate not to be left behind by the woman. Given time, she would have allowed it; hell, she was getting close to just taking her anyway and accepting the consequences later when everything was all said and done; she thought it was heartless to leave such a young girl among beasts and monsters that meant to do her harm.

But Maryse was one, too, wasn't she? True she was here on another beings order, but she desired to act against the girl's wishes too.

Brushing the girl's stringy hair from her face, her heart went out to her. In their country she would have been loved for her warrior strength, her cunning in battle, but here it was daily struggle that toned her. With time, she would be a great asset to the Nephilim.

She had to steel herself and act on her decision to force this on her. She couldn't return home without following the orders given to her by Valentine, and couldn't wait much longer either. Soon, her children would miss her. She was being inattentive again to their needs in place of the wants of the man she desired. Maryse did not want to lose her children, not to anyone, not even their father, and that was a likely enough situation should Robert learn that they had been left alone for almost two years after Jocelyn had been taken. This mission must be expedited, even if she betrayed her own morals and promises by the actions she must take.

The stele was pressed softly against the back of the girl's right hand and she screamed awake in pain, thrashing about. Her hand caught Maryse in the face, drawing blood. If the elder woman hadn't had a good insight to what was about to happen, she would have lost her eye. As it were, she barely just saved herself, her agility what separated them at the last moment.

When she finished, she let the girl go, and the small child flew over the table, clutching her injured arm against her chest.

She stared, wide- eyed and betrayed. She would not forgive, and she would not forget.

The pain was agonizing her. Maryse could see as much, but as she approached to offer aid, the girl viciously snarled, disappearing out the tower window to somewhere safe and far off from the Shadow- hunter that betrayed her.

Those black eyes would haunt her for all her days.

_**How could you?**_ They said blatantly as the wind caressed her hair, pulling her piece by piece from the window like a leaf pile scattering on the breeze_**, I trusted you… loved you… You hurt me.**_

But that was fine for her to hate her, because no one despised Maryse more than herself.

_**XOX**_

To everyone's surprise, Alec had taken up his bow and misfired, repeatedly in practice training. He was an expert at the long bow, anything but perfection was expected of him, which is why he was no longer allowed to pick up that particular weapon during class.

The repeated failure had Granville Fairchild yelling at him to put it down already and pick up a sword like the other two boys, who watched him with stricken horror. Was it really that possible to become that dreadful overnight? Well as the old saying went, _**Use it or lose it…**_

It had them scrambling to pick up their blades to see if they had lost any of their own strength.

There came a half winded shout again and Alec ignored it. He could feel the fire in Jonathan's gaze, knew there to be stricken confusion across Jace's soft and understanding face, but still he couldn't bring himself to care. He notched his bow again with a quilled arrow and his torso took form as if he would shoot down an enemy. He struggled again to pull the shaft back any further.

He wanted a heart he could pierce, someone he could hurt bad enough that would punish Valentine for stealing his sister from him before he could ever know her. He wanted vengeance for simply knowing what that damned book claimed.

Alec knew he should wait to ask his mother for the truth when she returned from her trip before passing such blind judgment, but he couldn't help it.

They would discuss this, he knew they would but he didn't know how to put his emotions on hold. He wasn't Isa-

His heart tightened viciously at the thought of his sister. The book explained so much about her he had never questioned, only accepted as the quirks that made her who she was. Was that truly her, or the faerie blood coursing through her veins?

With a sharp cry he forced his arms back and the resistance in the string gave his fingers no choice but let go, the pain in his fingers too strong to hold on, and let the arrow fly a few feet further than the last, but still in that blasted downward arch.

Tears threatened to fall and their victory had him more bothered than the likely whooping he would receive when Fairchild caught him. He was weak and they all saw it.

He wouldn't let that be the last impression they had of him, however. His hands loaded the weapon again, staring thoughtfully to the distance. Finally prepared, he was ready until a strong foot kicked his out, widening his stance against his will.

Turning, the blue eyed boy glared at the person he thought least likely to oppose him as the nimble, moist hands took hold of his elbows gently. Brown eyes stared defiantly at his and Alec had half a mind to put the kid in his place. How dare he manhandle him. How... Why was he smiling?

Simon smirked and nodded to the boy's now shoulder width stance, and somehow Alec got the gesture and flexed his legs, recognizing the familiar pull of safety in the balancing position, "Again. Try again."

With another look of distrust, Alec turned and took poise. Simon's hands took hold of him, twisting his arms just so as the other boy drew the arrow back to his ear, helping him twist his wrists in a fluid motion far further than he had managed before. This time when it flew it was sky bound in its curve and fell just shy of the tree fifty feet off. That he had been using as a target. It was all Alec this time, with Simon's guiding hands showing him the way.

Turning, he caught sight of the awkwardness that ebbed around Simon's eyes as he looked at him, fiddling with the useless glasses that Clary had dug up for him. "That should help you. Next time remember to twist your wrist more and keep your legs apart. It gives you a better stance."

He pulled away just as Jonathan wrenched the human- born Shadow-hunter away by the back of his shirt, his expression furious. The boy twisted and bolted away, screaming for help before the Morgenstern boy had a chance to pummel him into the ground.

"You alright?" Jonathan asked broodily, his chest heaving slightly with every hard intake of air, his wicked eyes drinking him in. Alec knew he was looking for any damage done that would allow him to do what he couldn't now- punish the boy, make him bleed.

Alec shifted his weight and the blonde boy looked immediately to the foot that had been kicked away from him, expecting some injury, any defect that would grant him abolition from the tight leash he kept his wrath on. "I'm fine Jonathan."

The dark eyes settled on his, and Alec noticed for not the first time that the depths were endlessly deep, like he could fall into them forever. They tightened ever so slightly, his thick brows furrowing before the boy crossed the distance that had been drawn between them for the first time since he beat Clary to unconsciousness when they were kids. The arms were bands of thin, strong muscle, and they clamped tightly over the boys back an shoulders, giving him no escape. An emotional rasp radiated through him as Jonathan breathed out, "Thank the Angel you're alright."

Timidly, Alec too raised his bony hands to embrace the boy holding him, as the sense of overwhelming dread passed through him. It was the same despair that overtook him in Valentine's office, but this was tangible, stronger almost, like a vaccine in comparison to the full effect of the virus. This was threatening him personally somehow, though this was the gentlest and kindest his would-be partner had ever been with him.

Drawing back, Jonathan clamped his hand over the boy's chin, before drawing away, "Don't let the urchin touch you again. I won't be responsible if he hurts what is mine."

The threat was clear as well as the claim. Alec could only nod as he cast his eyes downward to his feet, listening to the rustle of the grass as Jonathan walked away to rejoin Jace and his grandfather.

Somehow, he felt the most natural he had ever felt holding the bow his father had gifted to him. He wondered how a Mundane might have come across this knowledge, and he looked to the boy who still ran down the hill towards his sister and Clary.

Simon picked up a small bow with an apology, an unbeknownst to the two girls, bumbled intelligently with the wooden arch. Clary mothered him, correcting his arms, and Simon watched her over his shoulder.

In surprise, he turned from the younger children, knowing now that he had overlooked a simple fact now, just as his sister had.

The boy had been a warrior in his old life, a hunter perhaps. That made him smile as he returned to the others, picking up a rustic blade in place of his beloved bow and quiver.

He might just have to learn a thing or two from the Mundie. He would have to thank him later, when the others weren't around to hear.

_**XOX**_

"She was happy to take her first marks." Maryse found herself announcing as soon as the Lady covered in web waltzed in, her claws almost threatening vengeance for her misdeeds.

She tried to keep her voice as level as she possibly could, but failed at the end, her voice quaking,

The woman bristled visibly, her shoulders taughtly stiff even from behind. "Was she, now?"

"Yoouuu~ aarre ~ lyyyyyyiiiing~…." Her voice was strangely sing- song and filled the room on the wind. Maryse realized with a shudder of fear, that she had lost sight of her and had no idea where she had gone, but knew she wasn't so far off not to be a threat.

She looked around the room to find the few things of her daughter's missing, the satchel of the Shadow- hunter missing as well, probably not far off. She must have planned to run off as soon as she forced her child to bear her first marks, to take her as far as she could carry her and hope that the Demon Mother could not follow her where she went. Her vicious smile turned to a snarl as her nose flared, "You dare to take my daughter from me?"

"You can keep your demon- child whore I-"

"Her name is Aline Penhallow!" the woman hissed, her jaw snapping as bared her sharp rows of fangs, just as her eyes ripped open, vicious serpents streaming out to snap at her. Her hand upturned the slab that separated them, and rounded on the Nephilim, "Do not dare call her anything less than what she is worthy of!"

Maryse threw herself out of harm's way and into the path to the door, knowing the Nihon monster was hot on her tail. She stumbled despite her sure-footed and equilibrium runes, and vaulted herself up weakly to her feet again. Still the woman chased, furious in her wrath and the dark-haired woman chanced another glance back to the snakes that whipped about from her torn- open eyes, blood pouring down her pale cheeks.

"No one wants my sweet, misunderstood daughter. Her own kind won't have her, have never understood her, but my blood runs through her veins, and I alone know her true heart. You will never have her amongst your own!"

Maryse again tripped over her own feet as she flew down the stairs, falling into webs in her escape. She ducked in and out of the many rooms, slipping out windows and down the walls as she came to a wall of webs and millions of tiny spiders that all seemed to sing with their mistress's unease.

"Oh~ Naïve, little serpent in my garden~!" the dark woman's voice lulled musically in sing song, making the blue-eyed woman give pause on the wall. She pressed as closely as she could, hoping not to be seen as she looked upward to the window of the turret to where the wicked woman had sat down on the sill, and swirled a large goblet idly in her hand as she considered the Nephilim woman through half-hooded blind eyes. Her down turned face told the Lightwood woman that she knew exactly where she was, but was letting her go, and she brought the glass to her lips with a smile before calling out, "You ought to know you narrowly escape the lair of the Great Demon Lilith. Go home to your babies, little Nephilim, and know the meaning of my generosity. "

The rigidity in the woman's frame gave Lilith great joy, and her pleasure paid the price enough that she would let the woman go despite the slight against the child. "So now you understand the threat that I hold, and what I am known to do. Do not dare lie to me again, or else the safety of your children will come into question. That goes for that bastard that you carry as well. You will find that this is the most merciful as I have ever been."

With that, she fled downward as she shook with the knowledge that she was very narrowly escaping this place, her steps in tempo with the musical laugh that seized the keep, a disastrous sound that shook her inside and out.

When she got home, she and Valentine were going to have to have a heart to heart.

_**XOX**_

Aline crawled back up the tower wall. She hadn't been gone long, just far enough to realize that she had left the delicate woman unguarded in a centralized war zone, and that her infernal mother had returned, wrathful.

She watched as spiders rushed in countless numbers to the tower keep, up the walls and across the floors. She had only one way back home with them in such a flustered rage, and that was along the tower wall.

Coming into the room, she looked to her demon- mother, whom held a goblet in her clawed hands and stood off by the stairs, watching her as she came over the window sill delicately. She expected Maryse to still be there, so she could make amends for hurting her. She was sure the woman hadn't intended to do such a thing.

_**Where is the blue- eyed woman? **_The question was clear; she didn't have to voice it. Maryse's bag was gone, but the thick furs she had slept on with her remained as well as a portrait she had cried over nightly of a gaggle of children, her children, Aline recalled.

"She left. Consider her remains presents."

Lilith watched with her pitch- hued eyes in curiosity as the girl moved to pick up the abandoned photograph, laying in the makeshift bed of furs as she curled in on herself.

_**When will she be back again?**_

"She won't be, child." Lilith tried to gently whisper, but the sound was still malicious. Aline twinged, her arms tightening around the frame, "No one loves you like I do, Aline. I will never leave you, not-"

Aline closed her eyes tightly, as tears threatened to spill. This woman had raised her, given her the world in this darkened world of death and decay. She was the Queen of the Damned, and that made her the princess, but now she knew the feeling of Light and Good and Love, and again she longed for her kin, the long dead and those that remained far from this forbidden land.

"Go." She demanded, her voice cracking. Lilith obeyed mutely. She could feel the pain rolling off of her, and knew she had made a big enough betrayal out of the woman's escape that she would never ask to leave, never trust another Nephilim again.

She would never lose her child. Aline was hers.

Closing her eyes, she drifted off in a smog of poisonous black smoke, her destination a hill top far across the world in a land long thought safe from monsters and demon kind alike, where she could watch her other child fondly as he grew well into the wicked man she had molded him to be, her evil drop amidst the so- called innocent and good. One day, he would make her proud in a way Aline never would.

The thought of to come days of darkness and agony and Nephilim cries made her smile fondly, as he played with his father's kind.

_**Soon…soo soooonnnn….. **_

She could have cackled with glee.

_**XOX**_

The child pulled herself up, smelling the pungent smell that she so favored and followed it down the stairs to the exposed parapet. On the wall outside of the keep, sat a china platter with a split durian, the crystal wand- like shaft that had burned her only hours ago stabbed through its flesh.

Mutely, she picked the plate up, looking about for the woman in question. She knew she was long gone, but desperately she looked even still. She would have forgiven her, surely Maryse knew that. She adored her that much.

Desperate because again she was alone. Alone again because she missed her Nephilim mother, and the woman that so reminded Aline of her and the way her arms had wrapped around hers at night.

Turning she returned to her tower, the durian shaking in her hand as she took it and the mass of soft furs back to corner where the corpse she kept in the corner. She intended to sleep there, at the feet of her mother's withered husk, the smell of death surrounding her, as she felt decay set itself deep in her bones, spiraling outward from the burn on her right hand

Timidly, she took up the stele and watched with mild interest as it glowed faintly, pressing it tentatively to her skin. The drag mark burned her, but less painfully than the first. The flesh turned from irritable red to black, the line doing nothing as she knew nothing to actually mark on herself, and she watched as it faded to nothingness. Desperately, she tried to remember what was on Maryse's body, and imitated one of the few she remembered the woman cutting into her own flesh, and suddenly she found she wasn't as tired anymore, only bone weary.

She longed for her Nephilim mothers to return, for the new comer to come back and the dead one to rise again so she wouldn't be so lonely.

But no one ever understood Aline Penhallow, not Maryse nor Jia, and perhaps not even Lilith. Her tiny hands took hold of the abandoned frame, and traced the children fondly with her finger.

_**What would it have been like**_, she wondered, _**to have grown up beside these people? **_Would she, could she have been truly happy there in their world? Would she have liked to know them and have made friends there like she refused to here? She didn't know. Aline didn't understand this sudden melancholy either, nor the draw to follow someone else away from here. She wanted to meet Maryse's children, all six of them, but especially the pale boy who distanced himself with a proud lift to his chin.

He seemed the outsider, the unloved one, and in severe pain. A stark mark on his shoulder half beneath his top was the same on her forearm, she noticedHe seemed to reflect how she always felt. Her eyes absorbed his hand, where the same mark on the back of her hand reflected itself, angrily rimmed with a burning red and black as his eyes. All the marks, in fact, were rimmed with the same red pink, just as hers were. But a girl with fiery hair held his hand, there to soothe his pain gently with a soft smile, her arm outstretched backward as she linked fingers with him.

The fondness in his dark eyes upset her. She was jealous over people she never met.

What was the world coming to?

That night, the girl spent the dark hours cutting the runes into her delicate flesh that she saw, testing her body's reactions to each as she felt them overtake her and took time to remember the ones that might be of use to her later.

One day he would look at her that way, she resolved. One day she would be worthy enough of him.

The thought kept her up all night alongside the energy rune and durian flesh as she desperately tried to catch up with the children she saw as light years away from her.

_**XOX**_

_**Author's note: I know I just threw a lot of mythical beasts all at you at once. Easiest way to explain is that Aline sits in the Hushan part of the Great Wall of China, which is closest to Korea. Korea and to the East are dominated by Japanese spirits and beasts, which are now beginning to encroach the North side of the wall. Land is important to them, since Asia has really no leader (like how the vampires in this story took the east coast of America and created an impenetrable citadel) it's been running wild and in reality Japan always has been in need of expansion, always had a ratio problem with people to land mass. There are only Shadow Hunters left, because of the viciousness of the beasts that roam, but there are small clusters of Shadow Hunters still living in certain parts of Asia, keeping the wards up, living with the creatures still despite the harshness of it. They tend to stay as fear to the west and south as they can.**_

_**They are the people that told Maryse all about the legends as she goes. Sort of a "Hey I heard this monster likes this area" heads up.**_

_**The Winston Comment from Alec going into the office was a joke from 1984 by George Orwell. Alec was ready for everything and anything to attack him there, and finds Jace's fear to be something to mock, because out of what he expected to actually happen, the least likely threat almost makes Jace wet himself.**_

_**I also subscribe to the idea that Lilith can and does change her appearances, and if a group of natives were to see a strange woman come and take a child and go live off in the woods, there would also be stories. Perhaps the woman was nefarious, and in this case its rather true, just not to the kid.**_

_**Durian is actually a real fruit, and yes it smells like decaying flesh to some people. Others describe it as putrid, or smelling like gasoline. It's pretty neat looking, go check it out.**_

_**PS. Ha-Ha is the formal way to call ones mother in Japanese. **_

_**Okaa- dare desu ka?- means "mother who are they?" in Japanese.**_

_**Kitsu and Kitsune are the same monster, and for all intents and purposes, it is of the same family as Lycanthrope, just a different strain of demon. I believe it might have been mentioned at Taki's, but just in case I wanted to clarify.**_

_**I'm a huge, huge fan of mythology, particularly of the Japanese variety, but I did some research into Chinese monsters as well. The lack of them is fairly startling. Japanese believe in pretty much ghosts or humanoid monsters so I went into my research expecting more. Chinese pretty much have squat. What they do believe in are magnificent beasts that are more animalistic and they do share a couple, like the idea of the black dog, and interestingly enough, the Kitsune or fox beast.**_

_**The more you know. **_

_**There you have it my dears, on the eve of my birthday. I tried to power- house through this to get it out to you all faster, otherwise my writing schedule would have taken me probably well into next week before I got another chapter out, which did not sit well with me. I apologize if anything is choppy. I went through it a few times, trying to smooth it out, but to no avail, at least that's how I saw it. Who knows if you behind the computer screens across the world will find the same issues I did.**_

_**I also have a special little treat for you all, to mark the occasion. For a few months I have hit a rough patch in my art. Not that I have no inspiration, but a serious lack of time has kept me from it. So I decided to make some Cover art for my favorite FF's. This one is my current obsession, and so I decided to commit to doing one for this one first. The artwork is mine. I drew it especially for this story, and I ask that no one steals it.**_

_**The dress that she's wearing makes its debut MUCH later in the story, and was going to be the flame dress from the second chapter, but the darkness doesn't give me much to work with and with such a short picture of her dress it wouldn't be recognizable. So I did the dress that will appear (and I say this so loosely I hope you all don't quote me on it) in roughly 10 chapters. I realized there's no fan art for all three of them. They are my favorite trio ever. The tattoos on the boys' biceps are indeed the runes carved into Valentine's office, and represent the blood they were each given.**_

_**Clary, for those of you that must know, would have had one on her hipbone, as I originally planned on placing it but for the PG audience, I put her in a conservative dress and just decided to forgo it entirely.**_

_**REVIEWER ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS:**_

_**LAUREN V: I really appreciate your continued support. I still think that chapter 3 was my favorite to write. Truth be told**__**,**__** it is the other half to this chapter, which was originally going to go by this title. **_

_**Panda: I too adore Sebclace. I felt like it was a bit ridiculous since the love triangle was introduced in the actual books and yet I could find no official pairing title for it. I have dubbed it SebClaCe, hopefully everyone appreciated the effort. I am still in search of a good dark and twisted FF involving a subservient Clary and dominant Sebastian.**_

_**Inalim and my2guys: thanks for your support as well.**_

_**I love all of my readers. Thank you ever so much for reading. **_

_**Love it? Let me know**__**.**__** Share the Love.**_

_**Review, Favorite, Follow**_

_**Till next time**_

_**JA NE**_  
_**~TAO RI~**_


	5. These are the Things They Need

A premeasure warning: This chapter has some more sexual content right at the beginning than what there has been before. If you don't want to read this, please jump from after the lyrics to XOXXOX marked for your reading pleasure, by hitting CTRL+ F. From here on out, be warned. This is your first and last warning, loves. It's going to get a bit more frequent. I will offer a brief shortcut at the end of this chapter for those that skip, but I will not do this for future chapters.

_**Yo, sister  
You sure heard me.  
Singing in the rain for some love  
You took me unaware,  
Said things to make me care.  
Now the time is ripe and you're so good**_

_**Ask me what I like and I say**_

_**Don't stop swaying, baby,  
You soothe my soul and I stop searching  
When I get lost in the rhythm  
Everything stops hurting.  
Don't stop swaying, baby  
Take it slow and I keep yearning.**_

_**Hansel and Gretel  
Are holding hands deep in the forest  
They are lost, this is their own story  
The two have fallen in love  
And so after a long quietness amidst the **_

_**Creatures of the night, they begin to kiss  
Traveling like heat through each other's bodies  
They pass through centuries of insecurity  
And into a rhythm where they are not afraid**_

_**Mamma has led these children into the wild  
Unknown for reasons, known  
With father's help, of course  
They tried very hard to get back home**_

_**But of course, they could not  
And so they find themselves  
Through the darkness, through the sadness  
Making love, making peace, making music**_

_**They find themselves, through the chaos  
Making sense, this is what they want  
This is who they are  
These are the things they need**_

_**XOX**_

_**Quietly, the girl climbed into bed. The nightmare that had woken her had her shaking with fear and the terror that seized her was enough to keep her from sleep. The fire in her brother's room was cinders now, and the huddled mass indicated that he wasn't alone.**_

_**That didn't deter her. The worst thing he could ask her to do was sleep with the other boy.**_

_**The instant her weight settled against the mattress, the golden haired boy say upright, unprepared for the intrusion, his hair disheveled and puffy in a way that reminded her fondly of Simon every morning she woke him up by pounding on the door. She had thought growing up those boys simply woke up gorgeous, as Jonathan always woke up impeccable, with his hair pin straight locks it was hard for them to look untidy unless something got in them, even when he did have bed-head. Girls, however, had to work for their appearance; Isabelle was testimony enough to confirm the idea, as both girls spent well over an hour primping every morning. Jace groggily swiped at his eyes, measuring her up. Somehow his stare didn't bother her in the slightest, despite the way it lingered as it fell over her choice of attire, or rather lack of it, scorching her with the intensity.**_

_**A thin tank top and underwear was all that covered her tiny form, and the curves of her hips sharply cut out all the decency that it might have put on her thirteen year old body as they curled and made her hip bones prominent, exposing the rounded v below her exposed, developing abs as she shifted seductively upward. She looked delicious crawling over the quilt like that. From here, he could see straight down her-**_

_**With a groan, he fell back to the comfort of the covers and shifted over against Jonathan to make room for her. The other boy groaned, throwing his arm carelessly over Jace, thinking somewhere deep in his mind that his Jace only ever tried to escape and mistook the movement as him rolling away rather than closer.**_

_**He had to avoid her. Jonathan had forbidden him from seeing he, and he tried his best to respect his wishes with the exception of the few days she happened to appear here on her own whimsy to play the game she so expertly ran like a ringmaster, playing her brothers like a master puppeteer. He didn't want to let her go, not when she drew so close that he could smell the delicate cascade of ruby curls which held some of the tiny purple and white flowers that she had woven into her hair earlier this morning which had escaped her collection at the end of her birthday, but he knew that this would end dreadfully the moment that the pale brother behind him rose from his sound sleep and realized what they had been up to.**_

_**Mutely she shifted to press as closely as she could to him with her back running along the edge of the large mattress as Jace could only shift as far over as the other boy allowed, and Clary hooked her leg over his hip to keep from rolling out of bed, her thighs wide open as she wrapped her arm over her bared stomach between them, nuzzling closer yet still until their nether regions were flush and every breath swept over his face warmly. Jace could feel himself hardening as she unintentionally rubbed herself along his groin; hot and moist, it was like she was inviting him to fall, though the boy figured she was too innocent to even consider what she might be doing to him. Jonathan sighed as her knee rested over his thigh, and the hand that held Jace's waist slid looser between their stomachs to press his knuckles against the firming muscle, and slid to lock around a few of her fingers. It was as if the boy always knew her location, awake or lost to the world.**_

_**The golden eyed boy could have cried with frustration. He longed to touch her, to show her his affections. But Jonathan was the jealous sort and he made it quite clear that any and all attempts to withdraw from him would be now dealt with an iron fist, and any interference with Clary was assumed to be a double offense.**_

_**Clary's bright green eyes wandered over his face, half hooded as her lips parted in a soft exhale, the sight enthralling as she looked up at him. It was seductive in a way that he could no longer doubt her intentional movements; the overbearing evidence gave him a hard slap in the face. She was enjoying this, his wickedly delicious torture.**_

_**Jonathan had punished him a few weeks ago for simply letting his gaze wander too long when he had held the door open for her, and Jace had found himself bruised the next morning, stumbling with a slight limp that had Alec fairly hovering with worry. He could take care of himself, but the Lightwood boy watched with his bright blue eyes like that of a falcon, perched ready to fend off the next attack. The new habit made him surprisingly pleased.**_

_**He wondered, idly if this would get him outright killed. The idea of fooling around with Clary wasn't far from his mind, but their brother seemed particularly protective of both. Would he willingly destroy one to protect the other? Jace honestly didn't know the answer.**_

_**Soft, warm velvet pressed against his lips in the gentlest of caresses, her upturned nose knocking against his as her tongue darted into his surprised mouth, running the inside of the seam in victory. A muted gasp escaped his throat, and she seemed to take small victory in his loss of control, as her hands tugged his shirt open urgently.**_

"_**Jonathan-"**_

"_**He's asleep, isn't he?" she purred, her finger idly playing with a curl behind his ear, her thumb caressing the lobe gently as her eyelids lowered seductively. Her hand traveled downward, tugging the curl taught before it sprang out of her hand, brushing the fabric of his collar aside to draw idle pictures and marks on the exposed flesh of his clavicle and pectorals, her nail dragging lightly to leave lightly raised lines behind. "While the cat's away, the mice shall play…"**_

She didn't have to play the part,_** Jace thought as he watched her bat her eyes at him only raising to half mass as her lips set in a ruby red pout, **_he didn't have a hope of resisting her wishes, even if she came to him in a full parka that made her the size of a hippo…

"_**And when the cat comes back, then it's time for the genocide." Jace whispered, flushed as her mouth latched onto the length of his throat. She bit gently, a testing measure that reminded him of Jonathan, before she began lavishing the rest of his throat with affections. Her lips were comforting and rousing all at once, but her tongue… that brought him true paradise. The girl shifted, forcing him from his side onto his back. She ground her hips against his and the pressure almost made him black out as she pushed him back authoritatively.**_

_**It reminded him she was in control, she always was. It made him want her all the more.**_

"_**Too good then, Jace," Clary whispered against his throat, continuing her descent down his chest with her eyes focused on his face, reading his reaction. The hand that held Jonathan's twitched mildly as her brother responded to her pulse while still asleep as her legs spread open minutely, settling her weight fully down, and the thought of him waking up to join in her play had Jace's pulse jumping as her brother sighed out loud and turned onto his back, his face turning away from the couple. "Too, good, my darling, that you have another cat to defend you from the first."**_

_**Jace felt now that she spoke the truth. Stuck between the Morgenstern siblings, he was the prey and they definitely were the predators. **_

_**Perhaps he could fall to her whimsies without prosecution, just as he had for Jonathan. He prayed so.**_

_**Otherwise his demise would be imminent on the morrow.**_

_**XOX**_

Clary awoke, shaking mercilessly. Glancing to the window, she could see that dawn was hours off. She desired to go on next door to her brothers and beg either of them to hold her, to ease her. She didn't care about who did it, at this point she would have settled for Isabelle doing it, her arms were often the ones she ran to when her heart pounded like this, and they curled around one another with mutual love, not amorous love, but that of sisters when one of them were struggling to pick up their shattered heart. She and Alec hadn't come back to spend a single night since their mother returned from her last mission. Every morning, they still returned, exhausted from their home life, to collect the four children in the Morgenstern manor for training in the hills.

Perhaps she ought to take Isabelle up on the offer to meet the new addition to the Morgenstern clan. The thought was still a smack in the face. They shared a baby brother now, Clary reminded herself as bitterness ebbed into her heart. She was the one Isabelle had always cared for, and now the baby presented itself as a painful reminder that in no way was her once closest friend tied to her. She had replaced her, but not fully, with Simon, but she missed their late night comforts. She missed the only female company she kept.

She had doubled the amount of visits with Jonathan for that alone.

Her knees knocked together with the force of the nocturnal emission. Really, _**Jace? **_The boy obviously belonged to her brother, regardless of her feelings and desires for the boy, that fact was undeniable. She couldn't dream of Simon that way? The boy was so obviously smitten with her; he tripped all over himself to please her. It would be so easy to play the part, to let him put her pieces back together. But the reality of her dream had her realizing her attraction to her adopted brother, and the tightness in her stomach made her sick with herself. He was the only one she wanted.

She didn't even want Jonathan in the way she wanted Jace. It was like a man starving in the desert presented with a feast he could never reach. She couldn't do anything about it. She wouldn't, _**no couldn't, **_hurt Jonathan like that. She would stomach this ridiculous notion until it passed.

Trying to stand, she weakly fell back to her bed, her knees giving out on her, effectively grounding her. She could crawl, she supposed, if she really needed to get somewhere, but her full weight would not be supported, not until she dealt with the enthralling fantasy. She could shout, call out for someone to come help her as well, but the idea was less appetizing than the first. With her luck, it would be Jace that broke her door down to help her and she'd force him down and re-enact the tempting fantasy.

Falling backward with a groan, she stared at the ceiling, willing away her desire. She seemed damned to be hindered forever, Clary decided finally as the minutes ticked away, as her thoughts returned time and time again to the golden haired boy next door and the things she hoped he would and could do to her.

The thought of him in the throes of passion burned on the insides of her eyelids, and she could swear she could feel his hands rake down her sides.

With an objective noise, she fell to putting herself back together by tearing herself apart again, her mind on the beautiful, angelic creature that haunted her like a wraith, his name becoming the mantra that balmed her very soul.

_**XOX**_

A sharp cry jolted Jace awake. He struggled desperately to wrap his mind around what was happening. He was covered in sweat and out of breath, a warm, fuzzy feeling filling him to the brim and his vision blurry around the edges. Had it not been for his confusion, the boy would have been content to bask in the moment, but something seemed too wrong. One moment, he had been rubbing against Clary, driving her on with muted encouragement, his hands at her hips as he guided her where he needed her most, and in the next second he found himself abandoned beside Jonathan, a chill raising goose- flesh on his bare arms and thighs. Clary was nowhere in sight, yet he had _**heard**_ her, he swore he did, crying out in pleasure. The thought was enough to make him go hard again. Glancing down, he groaned deeply, the noise turning guttural as Jonathan's long hand slid down his wet abdomen and seized him. He suddenly realized that he must have had a wet dream, and the tantalizing friction brought him ready for more as the older boy pressed his lips against his ear, his breath hot on his chilled flesh.

The fact that the other boy was awake took longer than it should have taken to seize him. His eyes opened, darting to the smiling boy that loomed over him. That was not a good sign.

"Dreaming of me?" Jonathan whispered on his hair. The arm that had once gripped him around the waist, which had stroked him idly, rose up away to float between them and his hand was being inspected with undisguised scrutiny, and the elder boy looked down at him just as the golden orbs searched him out. The stare chilled him, daring him to deny anything as Jonathan brought his hand forward for inspection, wet with his evidence as he rubbed his long fingers together, and the thick liquid stretching as he split his digits apart. The black eyes pinned him coolly, dissecting him until he had no defense.

Jace floundered for a moment, and shook his head, knowing he would be punished either way. Instead, he accepted the maltreatment with dignity, and ducked his head down to tuck it underneath Jonathan's chin. Two strong arms supported him, steeling themselves as the youthful boy struggled to cuddle closer, keeping his distance as the blonde physically appealed to him, begging forgiveness that would not be his. Jonathan didn't doubt that the younger boy would use his body to gain his forgiveness if he let him nearer.

And if Jonathan let him closer, he wouldn't help but forgive him, convincing himself of his innocence.

"_**Who?"**_

The sound of his voice was abrasive, and Jace didn't stop himself from flinching, knowing the reaction was exactly what the Morgenstern boy wanted. He was glad that he was willing to be reasonable, and hadn't gone immediately to the torturous discipline he was known for. The strong hands tightened painfully in the fleshy meat of his thighs, and Jace could feel himself press against Jonathan's hardening length. If he thought it would save him from what would come, Jace would have gone down on him, but instead he wrapped his arms around his brother's back, forcing him to come closer still as his leg threw over his hip like Clary's had in the dream.

"I..I-I don't know…" he stuttered, the taste of the blatant lie bitter on his tongue. He knew very well that it hadn't been him, but his sister that evoked the emotional response from the boy, but he wanted to _**hear**_ it. "I didn't see their face…"

He could feel the razor- like edges of the boy's nails on his bare chest, the drag of them cutting through the wetness that pooled across his abdomen, to his nipple. The fingers swirled deliciously with pain, as he twisted the small nub, and Jace's lips fell open with a cry.

Jace knew he wasn't into boys, but somehow the boy evoked such powerful responses from him. He could say with true confidence that though he found many women _**attractive,**_ he was only_** attracted **_to Clary and Jonathan somehow. They alone stole his control, and he was gladly putty in their hands.

"Well, we'll have to give you something better to dream about for next time, wont we?" Jonathan smiled, pressing a rough kiss to his jawline as he continued the ministrations. "Next time you won't dare to forget that it is my hand that draws such responses from you."

_**XOXXOX**_

"Simon," the red head called, looking back over her shoulder. He seemed distant almost and the look in his eyes had her on edge when they were alone. He had begun to look at her like Jace had, a longing in the back of his eyes that seemed to fade out when he actually looked at her. The looks were very different, but she couldn't help but feel they were exactly the same in nature. She smiled at him as he looked up half dazed, pulling her hair over her shoulder with one hand, her nails tugging though the ruby locks, "Help me?"

The boy almost tripped over himself to get to her. He always had tried to be the best to her, small arguments aside. He always took care of her, even if it seemed at times that he was striking out against his keeper. She was glad to say he was her closest friend, even more so than Isabelle, regardless of the prodding and shoving that their parents had tried. Clary smiled as he awkwardly pulled the leather bodice back, and tugged the zipper up to the clasp at the top. The sensation of her gears pulling her taught made her gasp, and Simon jumped, pulling his hands away as if he had been the cause, and watched with wide eyes as she smoothed her hands over the new piece of attire fondly.

It had once belonged to her mother, and though the older woman never really wore it in Clary could smell the gentle perfume still embedded in it from hanging beside the other clothes that had been her favorites. Glancing to her reflection, the girl was pleased to see similarities between her and Jocelyn. She could only hope she would grow up to be half the beauty her mother was.

_**Had been.**_

The thought tightened her stomach in a way that she couldn't blame the corset for, a spiraling inward that made her nauseated. Her clawed hands tightened against the buckles on the facing, tempted to rip it off. Maybe this _**was**_ a mistake.

Clary looked amazingly strong to Simon. Every day, she rose before dawn, and most mornings came upon him with her banging on the door, already ready for the coming day. This morning had been different, and the air seemed wrought with tension. She seemed to him grown up overnight. The idea was absurd of course, but she seemed stronger now in the full gears that she normally forwent. But she was officially an adult today, and the girl seemed to be sold on the idea that she needed to appear in authority of her future.

Her face pulled out another small smile as she realized her astonishment turned to painful melancholy had upset him, and touched his hand, carelessly taking it in her tinier one and squeezing, "It's alright Si. It was just a bit tighter than I was expecting."

Looking at the girl, Simon would have to agree. The pants he had gotten used to, but the added layer that tightly wrapped her torso was starting to alter his ability to be gentlemanly. She was dressed like a warrior, despite the flowing mullet skirt that bustled behind her, and she was drenched in femininity.

Simon prayed he could make it through breakfast without letting his eyes wander. He didn't doubt in the least that her father's gift to her would drastically change from some pretty bauble to where his corpse would be buried and the other children of the house would see to it that his demise would be long and painful, and probably bloody.

All offenses against the would-be-queen were dealt with iron fists. He was the enemy after all, and she their princess.

_**XOX**_

Walking down the stairs, the girl held her hand over her stomach. She found that her lungs only took in half gasps of air, and she couldn't manage to do most of the things she normally had. The stairwell provided her with one of the many problems she faced in looking this good. No wonder her mother stopped wearing such ridiculous attire. "How in the hell do women walk let alone fight in this?"

"Practice makes perfect?" Simon offered hopefully, offering her his arm. She accepted graciously, leaning against his strength as she willed the leather to give. He wondered if enough prodding would lead her to wear them more often like Isabelle and her mother. The two raven- haired beauties seemed to worship the articles of armor, and Simon couldn't think of a single outfit the girl had worn that didn't have the sturdy bodices involved.

It made hating her impossible. Clary's best friend was the hottest woman he ever saw, but her blunt ignorance and inability to be civil with him had closed off any chance of him closing the distance.

"I swear Simon; I'll never wear this shit again if it doesn't start to let me breathe in the next five minutes."

She fanned herself as she leaned against the taller boy for support, feeling faint. Glancing down at her heaving breast, she wondered if perhaps she ought to have the boy loosen the top strings at the very least- her tiny breasts looked like they were about to pop out, and though the heart shape it gave her was desirable, the costs were just too high. She would have been just as happy in a sweetheart neckline or a scooping tank top.

"You have to admit, however," a voice drawled behind them, the tempo of another person's feet beating down the stairs to catch up with them alerting them only moments before the voice hit their ears of the other boy trying to reach them. Simon looked back to the pale boy who was only a few steps behind, with Jace following mutely and silently behind him at the top of the stairs, looking disheveled as always. Jonathan was well dressed as he always was, a long sleeved, deep violet shirt starkly cutting out his thin form, making him look paler than usual, and his short, choppy hair was styled to stand halfway off of his face, which gave him the appearance of the smug little bastard Simon knew he was, as the salacious look he cast over his sister racked down her backside, "It does make your ass look much better from here, little sister."

As she turned to look at him, her brother took her right arm to help her heroically down the staircase, tugging her effectively from Simon whom had stood on her left side, and Clary drew in front of him as he wrapped his left arm about her waist with his right hand supporting her right arm at the elbow. His eyes darted down appreciatively, taking in every sharp angle the corset had created as well as the gentle curve of her breast, nearly ready to pop out in the sweetheart arch of the top. "And from here it almost looks like you have a rack."

She slugged him playfully with the arm that had rested on Simon's, and Jonathan's hand tightened at her hip, letting her know he wasn't going to play today. He drew her in closer, and she let him kiss her temple lovingly, claiming her as his territory.

Simon couldn't help but glare at her brother. He always stole her away from everyone, so it wasn't like he wasn't used to it. No, what irked him is the way she allowed it, never giving a second guess to other people's feelings.

It was something he was trying to get used to, even if the though perturbed him deeply. He fell in line beside Jace as the siblings swayed down the stairs together, so the same yet startlingly different.

The brown- eyed boy supposed Jace was in a similar position, though he couldn't exactly understand what the boy was to either sibling. The three had a close camaraderie at the very least, but he never seemed bothered by the moments stolen from him by Jonathan or the lapses in judgment he saw in Clary as she rushed to her brother's side.

Idly he wondered as he followed silently, staring to the ceiling as he descended the stairs, if it were possible to learn something from the smug bastard, if he might eventually be able to know how to just let things like this go. Maybe he should just ask, before things went too far for Simon to reel them back to a happy medium.

Throwing his head back, he followed mutely, trying to portray his inner Jace Herondale.

God this was going to just kill him. He was already exhausted, and the day hadn't even yet begun.

_**XOX**_

Jace stared as he remembering how he had dreamed her lips would have felt pressing her open mouthed kisses over his chin, the warmth of her curves melding against his sharper angles, the way her thighs held him closed around his hips and he could feel her-

He choked on the rush of air he took in and she looked back to him with a small smile, making sure he was alright. She looked like an Amorous Goddess, batting away the affections of the men that rushed her from all sides, coyly batting her thick eyelashes at them. He could never be one of them, but he wasn't content with the stolen glances of desire either. She egged him on, desiring to see the fight begin. He could see it in her crystal green eyes.

She was surely going to be the death of him.

He forced himself to be the perfect example of someone at ease and in power of themselves, falling into stride behind the woman of his desires. He could feel the brown eyes of the human boy watching him, measuring him up. Glancing to Simon, he tried to manage a halfhearted smile. At least he wasn't the only one being tortured by this new addition to her morning attire.

The Mundie looked to be floundering, his eyes darting everywhere and anywhere in a mad attempt not to be caught in his longing glances that swept over her backside, slow and dangerous as they shifted along every ridge of her hourglass figure. Jace couldn't help but join him. She was always the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on, and he prayed that she knew it.

A sound of appreciation escaped his throat and Simon whipped to look at him, unsure if it actually came from him or not. Looking down with a darting glance, Jace could have sworn heavily. He needed to learn how to keep things under wraps and in his pants. He had been doing so well too.

Clary was ever on his mind, despite everything he had tried to do to get her out. She tormented him nightly with visions of writhing flesh and heated cries, and daily the look of her glistening eyes haunted him with the thoughts of all the dark and twisted things he wished he could do with her, should the ever watchful gaze be lifted from his shoulders. A single glance at her fully clothed had him undone and at the edge of control.

Valentine met them at the bottom of the stairs. He cast a disapproving look at his daughter, and Jace found he couldn't blame him; he was in no doubt a torrent of worry the older she got. Clary had always bordered on disobedient, though her loving nature and the favored child position always got her skirted out of any real trouble, everyone could see she would be lining up the boys in no time, if this was how they all fawned over her now. Her father would have his hands full keeping them at bay, and she did him no favors dressing as her mother once had.

After all, Valentine knew how many men _**he**_ had to beat out to win the right to try for Jocelyn's heart. It wasn't like these things just happened, and just turning thirteen his young daughter was already lining up suitors. Perhaps a coming out party for Clary was a ridiculously old fashioned notion. After all, she was already out.

He could feel both father and son poised and ready to attack the moment he made any move towards Clary. It was maddening, being so close that he could smell her, could hear the happy tremble in her musical voice as she laughed with everything she had, but not allowed to reach out and touch what he desired so desperately, be involved with what made him happiest.

Her father pulled her reluctantly from Jonathan's supportive arm, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, going to tip- toes to reach the tall man's face as she hugged him good morning. It was comfortingly familiar as this was a similar occurrence to every morning, though his hands stayed firmly over her shoulders, and as he led the birthday girl away, glowing with mirth and happiness, it was in a direction away from the dining room. Her face whipped back to call something, but none of them could have understood exactly what was said through the laughter. Father and daughter disappeared side by side down the hall, leaving the boys to do as they would with a hope that it would be involve the kitchen's mass attempt to please their masters.

No one moved, as they watched the two go, and Simon wondered if they were content to wait for their father to return before beginning breakfast. They only had an hour to eat and get down to the ravine, however, and Simon knew exactly how family meals worked here: grab and scarf it down or else you got nothing.

Leading the way into the dining room, Jonathan and Jace fell in line behind him, also aware of the house rules. The table within was already set and brimming with platters full of cut fruits and sweet rolls, strips of meat, a monstrous pile of fried potatoes beside eggs, and several large carafes of coffee and juice between. Two of the set seats already were made up with breakfast, though the occupants were missing currently.

Simon stepped inside, taking in the deepest of breaths as the warm smell absorbed deep into his very soul. He still couldn't say he was used to this massive food spread, but he had grown to love the sight of it every morning. His life before the Nephilim was very hard, and this was more food than he would probably have seen in a year.

In his content pause, the boy didn't see the attack coming, though Jace did the second he stepped inside.

"Happy birthday!" Isabelle launched herself at Simon, dragging him out of the doorway and against her chest with a bear hug, her lips coming to press against his cheek. She hesitated right as her mouth touched the soft stubble on his cheek, just as soon as she touched him really, and she realized exactly whom she had kissed and shoved him away, a look of morbid disgust coming to light her eyes as her hand came up to cover her tingling lips, "You're not Clary!"

Alec fell against the window where he had perched, cackling hysterically. Isabelle found nothing about it funny, and looked at him with a withered glare, leveling him back to neutral. It wasn't often that his little sister was mad at him, but when she was she went out of her way to be malicious.

_**Another faerie trait, **_Alec found himself thinking, as he fell from the windowsill to his feet,

As she moved her chair away from the table to sit across from Alec in the long of the table a seat down from beside the head, Simon pulled up beside her, his hand lingering on hers.

"What Munda-"

His lips crashed against hers, and the room responded in turn; Alec stood and almost upturned his chair, he couldn't get across the table fast enough, and a wrathful expression evolved across his face, a dark turn that Jace had never seen on his soft face; but Jace had known that look on Jonathan's, and looking to his brother, Jace could see a malevolent haze had settled over his fine features. He turned fully, and tried to put a halt to the advance Jonathan was sure to make.

"That's…" Isabelle stared wide eyed, her pulse jumping in her throat. The blue in her eyes had rose up and was strikingly bright as her eyes dilated. Simon's hand was gentle in her hair, and held her face a breath away from his, "That's how you kiss someone you like."

He looked smug for a moment, thinking he might have won her over before the fool got slammed in the face with a fist, effectively knocking him out. Jace couldn't have stopped it, but Jonathan respected the effort that he had put in. Jonathan looked positively vicious still. If he could control his desires and wants and needs, than damn it, so should the Mundane-borne. It was bad enough that the boy stole away his sister's attentions, but blatantly playing her heart was_** his job**_, and one he desperately wanted to avoid even himself. Isabelle looked at him with a slight flush, her lips parted and ruby red.

Her eyes locked on his for a moment, before her lips tugged gently at the corners.

A sharp gasp drew the brothers' attention and the pale boy yanked away from Jace's embrace, drawing around the table away from the evidence of his attack. He was content that no one would tattle here, not even his angel boy who was still shaking beside Isabelle.

"Why is the boy sleeping on the floor?" a deep voice called out, settling a sobering feeling around the room. The eyes of the innocent darted from him to his girl, neither willing to give an answer to what had occurred, and Valentine leveled his dark eyes on Alec, making him shift awkwardly under the intensity.

Valentine and Clary had returned from their venture, and the girl had pulled her hair up into a lovely comb which left her hair cascading down her back with a lovely loft to it that resembled a molten volcano, spewing upward waves of voluminous disaster that charred the hills of her shoulder blades. She rushed forward, throwing herself to her knees before Simon, shaking the boy ruthlessly, trying to get a response.

"A bit of an accident, My lord." Isabelle's voice came out lofty, as her head fell backward to look over her shoulder at last, her back still to the door, and one of the wickedest smiles Alec had ever seen spread over her thick lips, and a cold chill ran through him as his pale partner came up beside him, a hand lingering on his shoulder as Jonathan lowered into the chair, a tilt to his regal head that left his face angled to his father, but the intensity was pinned on Alec's sister. "My fault entirely, I assure you."

Valentine's gaze did not lift, as he dissected her for later. She seemed sure of her answer, and finally Valentine accepted it as truth enough for what he would receive, and took his seat at the head of the table with Jonathan to his left, and the empty seat to his right for Clary. "Come along, Clary. He'll wake eventually."

_**After all,**_ he consoled his unease, _**Faeries were unable to lie. Mislead yes, but outright lies were impossible, and it took decades to master the art. The girl must be speaking the truth.**_

_**No fae in the world, of Seelie or Unseelie blood, could ever lie. It went against their true nature; brethren to Nephilim and Downworlders alike.**_

The dark gazes and smiles across the table went unnoticed by the father figure, as he took a small note of the incident in a small notebook, but Alec saw all, even when his sister's gaze dropped coyly to the coffee she held in both hands and she ran her foot along his leg to rest at his knee. Jonathan watched her too, and they basked in the shared lie.

_**XOX**_

"What would you like?" the voice drawled softly, as the boy forked his breakfast with disinterest. The eggs that had once been prettily laid over the fried potatoes by his parabatai in a loving presentation were viciously ripped apart now, the yolks long gone with the demise of his toast. He glanced up, and he could see Clary smile softly, glancing to Isabelle whom gave the sweet girl a knowing smile over the cup of coffee she had been nursing, a welcome change that always waited on a dainty saucer for her to the right of Clary on the mornings that Valentine insisted that his family eat breakfast together. She reached on her own, and gestured to a cinnamon roll as she selected it and brought it to her plate. She could almost hear Jonathan roll his eyes. The Lightwoods almost never ate breakfast there, but when they did, it was special occasions, and Alec and Isabelle went out of their way to make the siblings plates for them. In turn, Clary had set out a cup of coffee for her sister in arms when she was not there to greet her, black in case the girl arrived too late so that Clary would down it before running out the door. "You know_**, for your birthday**_, Clary."

The girl sat back and tucked her hair behind her ear. Truth be told, the day which was rapidly coming had her terrified. Her thirteenth birthday had come upon them without incident, and though she had insisted she wanted nothing for the marking of her growth, her brother had insisted. She supposed it was his way to take care of her, but she already had everything she could ever want or need, dresses beyond measure for any occasion, and enough gears to last her from now until she was buried. The only thing he could possibly give her she wouldn't ask for, because it would steal from her dear brother and Jace.

The golden- haired boy had lost so much in his life that Clary felt regretful asking for more affection from her older brother knowing Jonathan would certainly end up throwing the other boy out for her because the possibility that she felt neglected would be too much for him to handle. She also couldn't ask her brother to relinquish the younger boy into her stead either; she saw how much Jonathan now relied on the boy to satiate the insanity that lurked within him. She would have to skirt the answer again.

Hopefully she could come up with something, anything that she could give him honestly as an answer.

"Oh come off it, Jonathan," Isabelle came to her defense. She could always hope for the dark-eyed beauty to help her out of a jam. "You have two weeks to actually get her something before the party and by them I'm sure you'll have pulled a massive bulk of gifts for her, burned them in front of the orphans and gotten her better ones."

Shock overtook the entire table. Jonathan's eyes widened comically before he joined her smile, laughing at the idea or perhaps the ease of how she actual called him out accurately on what he would want to do and Clary turned to glare at her. Maybe she wasn't the help the redhead had thought.

A few seconds later, the tension was cut when Alec jumped out of his seat, glaring down at his sister as he slammed his fist against the table, "Damn it Izzy, that's _**my**_ thigh!"

The girl seemed mildly confused as her brother stormed from the room, a fury that didn't let up as he passed the door, or down the hall where he slammed the front door. "Was it?"

Isabelle looked to Jonathan for the answer and realized to her embarrassment that it was true.

A soft grumble escaped the boy from the boy still on the floor, a low plaintive noise that sounded mildly like a mmm hmmm, though no one really could hear him over the sound of Isabelle kicking the chair against him, as she followed her brother out of the room, looking to make amends.

_**XOX**_

The day had gone rather uneventful after breakfast. Clary had insisted that Simon stay behind after he did rouse from unconsciousness, claiming he might be worse off than he appeared now. Jonathan was thankful too, because if he caught the boy looking either of his sisters up like that again he would most definitely be headed towards six feet under.

Though not of blood, the girl understood him on a base, animalistic level. It was more than he could say about Clary, but both girls had started making their feminine appeal to them. Once, he wondered if Isabelle Lightwood would be opposed to marriage, if not for attraction, but because of their mutual understanding of each other on the basest of levels.

Now he knew there was another bred like him, a monster in the skin of an angel. It put a damper on any wedding plans that might have been once had. After all, the half demon couldn't possibly understand him as well as one that shared the exact same blood could it?

Watching his sister all day had been ruthless. Even now, the girls flaunted their purity to him, as they swayed to the gentle music of Jace running his hands over the piano their mother had taught them at. Jonathan had been uninterested, and Clary just did not do well at it and had abandoned it early on, but the other child that Jocelyn distanced her heart from had learned from afar, and mastered the art.

It so happened that she had managed to sweet talk him into playing again. It had taken hours of tuning from the disuse, and because of the lengthy preparation, Clary had conceded with only a few songs being gift enough.

"Dance with me?" Jonathan inquired softly, offering her his hand mutely. It had been years since they had, and the girl was lovely today, so confident in her skin that he felt like he spoke to a Goddess, not his sister, that perhaps this was the heavenliest side of his baby sister that he had ever met.

She looked back at him and smiled, nodding. Clary took his hand, and turned in his arms, her eyes fixed on the hand that held hers. Her fingers deftly rotated the ring on his hand, an affectionate look on her soft face as she gazed at the ring caste from their ancestral family's mold, the exact ring that had adorned every man of the Morgenstern clan's hand since the idea had come along to mark who belonged to the noble family. They gently swayed together, a mute waltz that pressed them close enough to feel the other's heartbeat.

Glancing up at her elder brother, Clary waved off his look of curiosity. She was happy to be held, to be loved in this quiet moment.

Amber gold eyes watched from behind the piano stand, distantly longing to swap places with his brother, to steal the girl away that so affectionately fell into his arms every time, blindly taking the leap knowing he would always be there to catch her. He wondered what god had thought when making him, if perhaps this was meant to be some sick joke or perhaps a way to make him stronger willed, better able to defend the family he was sworn to protect. Would Clary ever fall into him? The thought seemed blasphemous. Standing, he shut the piano cover as silently as he could, hoping not to disturb his siblings.

Neither of the Morgensterns seemed to notice that the piano had suddenly stopped playing, and that Jace had left them. They were always too lost in their own world to notice anything.

_**XOX**_

Jonathan's fingers worked faster than hers did, slipping beneath the buckles and working the line loose from her under bust to lower belly as her fingers struggled with the first one, his face resting on her shoulder as he softly kissed up her neck from behind.

She could curse his ability to undress her faster than she could manage, and the corset fell to the floor where she would leave it, abandoned for good, when he yanked it off of her shoulders roughly.

Her lungs filled painfully, grateful for at last receiving oxygen that swelled her breast. The air escaped her just as quickly with a cry as Jonathan racked his nails against her clavicle bone, drawing blood. It stained her pale skin bright red, dripping languidly down her breast.

He had been too hasty. Apologetically, he curled the girl against him as he kissed away the pain, his tongue darting out to clean up the mess he had made. Iratzes would come later to remove the dark evidence he left when he was done stealing her innocent essence from her, saving her from the painful reminder that scars would bring her, recalling later how she had let him do so much to her.

It was the least he could do for defiling her.

_**XOX**_

Clary woke groggily in the early hours of morning, her brother close enough that she could hear his heart steadily beating. He sat up on his side, his elbow bent so that his face lay in his open palm, gazing down at her lovingly.

She blinked away the sleep dust in her eyes, and went to rub her lids when he felt something cool rub her temple and quickly let her hand fall away for inspection.

There on her middle finger sat a silver ring, a feminine and obviously expensive signet ring with their family's crest surrounded by elegant scroll work which made the falling stars appear to be burning away in their descent.

"What do you think of your gift?"

Her hand began to shake. The reason young girls and women never kept family rings was because their lives of being unmarried and belonging to their own kin was strikingly short. Why invest in what you would not belong to in only a few short years?

It was a sign that you did not intend on leaving your family. True, the Morgenstern family was a good enough family to want to remain in it, but Clary had dreams of marrying, of young children she could care for and love and nurture. And true too, was it that one day in her not so distant past she had claimed that she would one day wed her brother. The thought made her dizzy, and she found herself withdrawing, pulling out of bed.

This was suddenly too much too fast. She couldn't breathe and the room had begun to spin drastically. She couldn't stay here, not with him looking at her that way.

She fled.

_**XOX**_

Jonathan did nothing as she ran from him, watching her as she stumbled desperately towards the door. Something in him begged for him to follow her, to make sure she didn't fall down a flight of stairs or something equally devastating. But her clear eyes made him pause, and give up on the idea of following her entirely; she was terrified, like wounded prey backed into corner.

And he was her predator and tormentor. Drawing his legs back to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his knees, tucking his head against the pillow they formed before he began crying.

It started softly, and grew in hysteria and volume, until he had drawn an audience from the staff. They pressed their ugly faces in on him like a crowd might at the aquarium, desperate to see the great shark terror.

A small voice tried to drag them away. Jonathan damned that small voice. It begged them to go, to leave him be. He didn't need to be left alone, he just needed to stop feeling.

Finally she pressed them all away, slamming the open door closed. Looking up, he saw how her shoulders slumped inward as her small fists pressed the wood slab shut tight. She shook slightly, the small tremor almost unnoticeable in such a tall girl, but it was there.

And in her voice it multiplied. "What have you done to Clary?"

When she turned to glare at him, he noticed that her eyes were pure blue, just like Alec's, and the wrathful nature she had taken on was like a typhoon, running over her flesh deliciously. She stormed up to him, backhanding him across the face hard enough to stop the pity- party he was currently rejoicing in.

Perhaps Isabelle and he weren't as close as he had thought. He had thought that she was at least smarter than the general riff- raff.

She withered as he rose up, running his hand along the sharp line of her jaw. Grasping her neck, he dragged her forward, pressing his lips urgently to hers. Isabelle melted with a sigh, as his tongue darted past her lips, forcing her to kiss him.

If she didn't know better, then he would make sure she would soon.

_**XOX**_

Jonathan had abandoned Isabelle in his room. The girl still breathed, but that was as much as she ought to hope for after she raised her voice to him, struck him. She would be sore when she did finally rouse from her sleep, but the viciously delicious distraction had him hungry for a different type of desire. He felt wickedness creeping in on him, tingling like a numb, dead weight through his muscles.

He sought Jace out, for once in his room. He would be enough; he would give him enough sanity again. Jonathan started to repeat these things over and over, praying that it would be true. Isabelle had brought him to almost the brink, stoking the fire with her passion and disobedience.

Knocking on the door, he could hear the carefree and light voices within. Butting the slab open without waiting for the responding answer, he saw the golden haired boy sitting against the man and between his legs of the boy that would be his Parabatai, a book spread out before them, as Alec pointed things out of interest. It was a destination book from the looks of it.

From the sounds of it, they appeared to have a plan to leave the manor, whether it be on a mission, or of their own devices, he wasn't sure. Looking up at him, he felt the tension go through Jace's slighter form.

So the blonde knew he was in trouble. Good. It made what was going to happen much easier. Turning, he stormed out. He didn't want to be there almost as much as they wanted him there. He was obviously unwanted. He could hear them, scrambling out of the bed.

Alec was faster to reach him, and the hand that caught his arm was warm.

Turning, Jonathan grabbed the dark locks and slammed Alec by the hair against the wall. The hit startled him, and he gave a sharp cry as Jonathan reeled backward and swung with all of his strength. The hit struck the older boy hard, knocking him back into the wall where his head cracked against the wallpaper with a muted noise, denting the porous material beneath.

The boy had been getting dangerously too close to Jace for his liking. They were growing too fond of each other and someone had to take his would be partner down a peg or two before he snapped and killed him. It took everything in him not to just pop Alec's head off now; even in this attack, the blue eyed boy looked to Jace, making sure the other boy was out of harm's way.

That was his job, not Alec Lightwood's. His hand around the slighter man's throat tightened, and he prepared to pummel the softly sloping nose inward. That would teach him to take his eyes off of his opponent. He was not a friend where Jace was concerned, he was a villain.

Every day he tried to steal him further away from Jonathan and he had enough of it. How dare they make plans, plans to leave him behind. With or without his father's approval, he would not lose either of them. They were his as much as Clary was. Thank the Angel _**she**_ knew her place in life.

"Hey!" Jace cried, jumping between them. Alec tried to put himself back between them again, his slight form twisting as he grabbed hold of the fist that held him around the throat, and Jonathan's blood boiled. Jace, too, grabbed onto the offending arm, but he didn't dare try to remove the offending limb. Instead, he drew nearer, positioning himself between them.

Pressed against him, Jace grasped the older boy by the shoulders and shoved as hard as he could, following through with his body. He landed, molded against the paler boy, his leg between Jonathan's thighs with his knee anchoring them against the wall, and his lips crashing against the thin ones that stole from him nightly.

Shocked, Jonathan stared down at the golden eyes that seemed to barely hold back enough emotion, so at war with himself and everything else. He could feel the weight of him, the slight pressure in all of the right places, the way his hips curved against his to lock against each other as his abdomen tightening against his stomach in a rippling flex, and the attempt to keep all of the pressure off of him too, the wall giving way slightly beneath the hands that had folded around his head, caging his face.

"Don't go…" his voice came out as a broken whisper, rough on the edges as the pale haired boy rested his forehead against the strong shoulders of the angelic man. His flesh was warm, and Jonathan felt suddenly chilled as he clutched himself to the strength, willing himself to meld into one creature with the boy he violated.

"I'm here, Jonathan…" He hushed him gently, running his hand against the tuffs of white hair before brushing away a tear that fell silently, "No worries, I'm here now…"

It didn't escape the elder boy's notice that the feminine ring that once adorned his sister's hand now presented itself nobly on Jace's ring finger, and as the boy pet him fondly, soothing him, he watched as understanding dawned in the Lightwood boy's eyes as well, and he made himself scarce.

As long as he had one of them, he would be alright.

_**XOX**_

_**Author's note: **_

_**The chapter begins with a wet dream, where Jace is asleep in Jonathan's bed, and Clary comes in after a nightmare, as she has been having them almost nightly. Jace and Clary have the same dream, and while Jace wakes up, he finds Jonathan already awake, with evidence of what happened. He gets punished for infidelity, because that's simply how Jonathan runs this ship. Clary wakes up next door, shaken, as she realizes that this isn't just infatuation. He soothes her in a way no one else does.**_

_**So the general consensus I saw was that the chapters need to be shorter. Got it (XD) ; I had a similar feeling too, as it took me half a month to type that last one, and it seemed to be a pretty long chapter for what even I have read. A single chapter that's 32 pages typed seems to scare off potential readers. The bright side of shorter chapters is that I can give you them more often. So my new attempt is 10k as my goal, but we'll see what happens. I've found that I tend to overshoot my goals when I have the plot already tentatively set.**_

_**Song lyrics belong to Sophie B Hawkins: "Don't Stop Swaying." I really wanted it to go along to Clary dancing in the rain, but I felt like the scene I put in instead was far more satisfying.**_

_**I'd also like to clarify that Jace and Clary had the same dream. I tried to make this apparent by giving you after shots of them both, but someone, somewhere might have overlooked this.**_

_**At this point, I would also like to say that Jonathan, Clary and Jace have not had sex with anyone, and not with each other yet either. Jonathan has been basking in their angelic nature, stealing their blood and other such bodily fluids, which has angelic essence in them. This is what is keeping his demonic blood at bay. Sex with them would do the same, if not more, but the worst thing they've done is heavy petting.**_

_**That being said, Valentine doesn't know of his children's actions. If he did, he would definitely put an end to it. Clary is his pride and joy, and no good parent would allow their daughter to be used, Valentine included. He never wanted Clary to be part of the experiment in the first place, after all. She is his favored child, the diamond in his eye, and all of that. Personally, I am unsure of how he would feel on the Jace x Jonathan front, but I would assume that it would follow what we know of Shadow hunters already: it happens, but we don't acknowledge it. The fact that it might affect his experiments might also affect his opinion here, but I'm not sold on his support or opposition on the matter.**_

_**So to answer Inalim after that, Jace and Clary's reaction isn't sold to Aline because of what she is. Their relationships with Jonathan come from sibling love initially, as they've been raised beside him and see the struggle he's having. Jace is being coerced but does care for Jonathan, and Clary gives the affection freely because she loves her brother unconditionally. So on the front of them, Aline would get squat coming to Morgenstern Manor, and would probably find Jonathan viciously protective of them. I mean, he doesn't want to share Clary with Jace and vice versa, so why would he be willing to offer them up to the other creature of his species? The answer is he wouldn't. Valentine might test the angel blood injections on her, however, if greed is not a factor in his generosity. He would still choose himself over experimenting with her, I feel. As for Aline's feelings on the matter, she might have that hunger for them that Jonathan does, but she wouldn't be as responsible with them. An animal is an animal, after all, and raised wild, she only has some resemblance to a Nephilim child's personality. I don't think that going forward she will however, she's practically raised herself and hasn't any experience with another reality. She's found peace with herself, and whereas Jonathan has been almost shamed by his father for being what he is, Aline has reveled in being truly herself. She would have been happy just to have never received first marks, if it weren't for Maryse. What I can tell you definitely, however, is that she has built Jonathan up in her mind, to almost hero worship levels, and knows on a base level that he is like her, just as Clary felt Jace was like her when they met and they keep reaffirming themselves as they grow older.**_

_** Lauren: hopefully this satisfies a bit of the lack of Clace we had here. I have actually been writing a fantasy novel series since I was in 7**__**th**__** grade, which has gone through numerous revisions and edits. I'm still unsure if it will ever make it to publication, as I still feel like it could always be better, but maybe one day. It's already hit its 1000**__**th**__** page mark, which I'm sure is no surprise, because as you see from this story, I'm rather wordy. Its title is still tentatively New Eden, and follows a girl who died and the man that killed her on accident. For future reference, if you are to see the name Kotara (or her title Lady Future Kotara) or Silhouette (aka Sihl) Shade in a novel, it is mine. They are NOT the main characters, but they are characters I am sold on, and have never changed them in anyway, and have the backstory that has been the foundation for the rest of the series. Best way to look at it is they are the Tessa and Jem/Will of The Mortal Instruments.**_

_**Any who, if you liked it let me know, share the love.**_

_**I adore hearing from all of you.**_

_**Read, Review, Follow, Favorite**_

_**With Love**_

_**TAORI**_


	6. Tiny Words That Break Your Heart-B&E p1

The girl perked up, and Lilith watched with mournful eyes as she rose to up with a look of confusion on her serene face as she gently shut the book she had been trying to focus on, and the hanfu she wore slipped with a soft sound like water trickling away from her knees to grace the dirty floor. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of the other woman since she had threatened her nearly three years ago, nor had her daughter mentioned her. Aline had, however, mourned the loss of her dear Nephilim friend and all that the bitch represented. Lilith had watched as night after night, the young girl pulled out the picture that had been long forgotten therein their home and dreamily gazed at the children it held and marred her flesh daily with small marks meant for strength, agility, healing… they all left her abandoned in agony hours later with burned, ragged flesh that boiled over and pussed from the wounds if she didn't care for it immediately and properly enough but Aline wanted to be a good little Nephilm, just like her dear Maryse, just like her people. Jonathan did not have such problems, not like his sister- mate. He didn't feel compelled to look or act like the sheep he had assimilated into. He was a wolf, a predator, and he was content to simply be. He was growing into quite the little hellion warrior despite the pure blood running through his veins.

Aline carried now with her the old stele everywhere she went and she obsessed over imaginary relationships she would never be able to hold onto. Her own people would never accept her, nor the wicked blood that made her the beautifully vicious creature that she was, her little girl.

Lilith damned the Nephilim woman for having ever spouted these thoughts in her daughter's mind.

The reek of her flesh was the first sign that the woman had returned. Many days before, she had smelled her on the wind, crawling over the hills in the fastest of paths, taking her darting journey in the darkness of twilight when the beasts and monsters lurked for prey and she blended into the background like a chameleon, and continued well into the day when her pitch black gear gave away her position like a homing device to everything rabid that could smell her, but she made good time in crossing the distance. In less than two days she was in sight on the horizon, her ebony hair whipping like flame on the wind. She seemed to be in a hurry, and everything she did was to come faster.

The black eyed woman soon knew why. She crossed the plains on horseback, probably only after portaling to the last monument she remembered from her last journey here. Clever girl knew better than to just appear in her home uninvited and unannounced. The naïve bitch probably thought to take them by surprise, but Lilith knew all of this land, from every particle of dirt to the beasts that roamed. All were the children of her children, all her kin in her kingdom of hell on earth. Sitting on the sill, she trained her gaze on the advancing figure, as she finally reached the fortress at long last.

Just as she broke the entryway, Aline had darted to the opening, throwing herself against her. The force almost sent her back down the stairs again, but her arms wrapped around her tightly, her long fingers petting the girl's hair.

"Jonathan turns 13 in a few days." She just came out and spoke her business. Lilith was thankful for the lack of play this time. It gave her less opportunity to deceive as was in her nature, and she would not have liked the look her daughter would have taken on after she strung the woman up with her skinned and hanging with her blood insides turned outward like a gutted rabbit by her toes. The black eyed woman was not in the mood to play with her food, let alone the Nephilim bitch aiming to lead her Aline on. "I'd like it if he could meet you, Aline. You two are very much alike."

Wide eyed, the girl went to the corner of the room, her small body crumpling down as she neared her makeshift bed where the rubble had been shifted in a half circle against the wall and the deserted blankets and pillow roll that Maryse had left here the last time she had been sleeping in that spot remained, accompanying new blankets made of animal hides. Her photograph which had been forgotten here too, was left abandoned propped up against the brick exactly where she had last left it. Aline's tiny fingers wrapped gently around the frame and her eyes roved over the group as she approached again tentatively.

Holding out the frame with both hands as if it was the most revered of her possessions, she shuffled her feet as her gaze pinpointed on each of the people captured in the portrait, and when she finally returned, she lifted it up for the Nephilim woman's inspection, her dark eyes hopeful, "Who?"

A long finger roved over the air and settled against the page, indicating the boy she had fixated on for months now. The girl squealed excitedly and clutched the frame to her breast as a blooming smile spread over her thick lips, spinning on the ball of her toes.

She glowed in the brightest of lights Lilith had ever seen, like a star about to go Super Nova, and her smile could have ignited the most human of emotions within her mother. But history showed that stars always burned brightest before they burned out and this would be no different. With a heart-shattering tremor in her heart, the spider-like woman stood up from her regal seat, slamming her fist lightly on the table three times. The heads of the two women whipped to look at her wide- eyed.

"Absolutely not. Aline is not of your kind, she is of mine. If anything, the boy may come here to be with his own, but I will not allow my child, my young to wander into enemy territories unprotected."

"Haha, I-"

With the viciousness of a viper about to strike, Lilith stood as tall as she could, the height in her spine inhumanly long and her jaw clicked with the crunching noise of scissors snapping together as she ground her fangs in a snarl, "Absolutely not. You will go nowhere with this bitch."

Turning her wicked face to Maryse, the woman began to back away, knowing she already crossed the demon woman, "As you wish, my Lady. I apologize for the intrusion."

When they were left alone once more the silence dragged on, broken only by the small girl's hard breaths and Aline approached the tall woman timidly; she grasped her mother's dress at the thigh as she knelt before her in a begging position, and she pressed her face into the rough, gauzy fabric. Her small hands clenched in the thickness of the dress and her face came to press against the rift in the cloth she made, muffling her breath in the flesh of her legs. The demon woman looked down, disturbed slightly with a twinge of affection; they had long ago established a no touching rule that had spawned when the girl was old enough to walk on her own and the brief moments of tender moments after between them were limited due to her insensitivity and the girl's self- reliance.

"I'd like to meet this boy." The girl's soft voice spoke out, and Lilith saw in the girl a woman on the brink of great change, behind the dark eyes that made her stomach drop out as her daughter looked up at her with moistening eyes; it didn't matter what she said, Aline would leave her too soon, whether by death or her own kind taking her among them, it didn't matter much. She would lose her little girl, the creature she had longed for, for her entire existence, and she now was presented with few options. Lilith would be unable to keep her, she knew that from the beginning, but now as the child looked up at her with tears brimming in her eyes, she found that the maternal need to protect was defeating everything inside of her. Aline was destroying her and she was destroying her child. "_Haha_, I hear him, crying for me, he needs me as I need him…. You _**must let me go**_ and help him…"

Pulling away, Lilith turned back to her window, and sought out the little Shadow- hunter who distanced herself now, on her journey back home. She waited, hoping that the girl would follow. Maryse would not have her way, though. Aline would journey alone, or not at all. This was her great pilgrimage back to her own people, and it would not be shadowed by a woman meaning to use her to gain footing in a mad-man's ranks.

"I suppose it's settled then. Go and meet the man who gave you bone and flesh and the son he created you for." Lilith looked disappointed, but allowed the girl her whimsy. Turning fully now, she sat down on the windowsill once more and leaned out the archaically cut window frame, gazing down at the hundred foot plunge from the tower, feeling as if she ought to have tossed the blue-eyed bitch out when she first had the chance, or have devoured her, as first instinct had demanded. Perhaps then, none of this would be happening. "See if your Adam might take you and make you a queen in a kingdom that was not ever meant for you."

It didn't occur to her that the bitterness in her voice would not affect Aline. The girl had long grown used to the harshness of her rasp and the malevolence of her words.

Aline touched the woman's arm again, the feeling of the coolness of her touch making the demon woman jump slightly in alarm, and a knowing look passed between them. Her eyes said everything that she needed to, thankful and sorry at the same time, because she knew what it meant to follow this path. She would forever lose her childhood in doing this; she would not be allowed to return to the demon's side after she hurt her.

After a moment, the girl threw herself against her mother's waistline, her arms wrapping around her affectionately. With a mechanical motion, she raised her arms stiffly, and, after a few awkward moments her limbs closed around the girl like a ballerina's first position and the other set held her head in what looked like a threatening position, like she was about to crush the weak skull in her grasp, her claws twitching as she held her.

"_**Daisuki…okaasan…"**_

Maryse watched from a distance, knowing the path that the girl would probably take, and wondered if there was a dark, motherly affection that the demon woman felt for the girl.

The older woman had recognized that look after all, as it so resembled the consuming longing she felt every time she neared the man that had abused her daily, but had once showed her some small kindness in her darkest of hours. Either today or another, Aline would follow this path home. She was desperate enough to take action.

She just had no idea how soon that day would come.

With that she left, journeying back to the open rift she had left only days before.

She _**had**_ to learn how to open her own portals.

_**XOX**_

"Your just some spoiled stuck up rich kid, you always get your way" Simon spat, his eyes smoldering. His hands had tightened into taught fists and he could feel his pulse racing in his knuckles and fingertips as the pressure rose from the strength in his grasp cut his blood flow, "What would you know of being without?"

Simon was furious. He didn't have to always give up his best friend to her pompous ass of a brother. The most alone time they got these days was the walk from his room to breakfast, and all other time was divided between Jonathan and training. The girl swayed slightly, giving him a withering look meant to put an end to the fight. The brown eyed boy took no heed, gently pushing her aside and away from the melee that was sure to occur as he struck out at her viper of a brother. If he wasn't pleased to see his sister manhandled, he didn't voice it nor did his expression darken any further, but Clary gave out a plaintive cry and tried futilely to push herself back between them. Her stronger friend managed to keep her at bay a safe distance behind him without taking his eyes off of Jonathan, now threateningly looming right in his face.

The older boy reached out and dragged the girl out from behind him, slamming her into his bedroom with a rough shove as he yanked the door shut right behind her. No one told him no and got away with it. As the son of the master of the house, he was in charge. The sooner they all realized that the easier life would be for them.

The black eyes didn't waver in their intensity and Jonathan stared him up and down as if he could ex ray his insides and read everything inside of him, his hand holding the door handle firm as it rattled, a sure sign that Clary was trying to escape. His forearm jumped with the strain, and he bore down, keeping the door in the jam.

The older had turned his attention from the girl safely tucked away, the ever glowing sister that made his existence all the darker in comparison. His voice was coarse and grating when he addressed him at last, severing the tight rope of the human- born's nerves in one single strike, "Does she love you?

"Dammit Jonathan, let me OUT!" he could hear the small alto muffled by the wooden slab bellow out as she began pounding erratically on the surface, rattling it in its place. Jonathan didn't seem bothered, save for the arm that shook with the effort of locking her within, all of his aggressive attention pinpointed directly at the boy that had started this tiff.

Did Clary love him? His eyes darted momentarily to the door which hid her from him and back to the man that stood in the way with that smug look on his face. The question only served to rile and confuse him, but looking at his best friend's older brother, he could see reflections of Clary and despite every instinct saying otherwise, he knew that it was genuine. Jonathan really wanted to know the answer with every part of his being, more so than Simon, perhaps. His throat was dry, and as he opened his mouth to speak, his tongue darted out to sooth the cracking lip he'd worried raw in his silence, shaking his head instead when pain presented itself against the wet caress. The boy's gaze darkened beyond reason, and Simon realized that a nonverbal admission would be unacceptable. His voice cracked as overwhelming dread overcame him; he wasn't ready to admit it to himself let alone _**other **_people, "No. I don't think she does. At least not the way I love her."

"Does _**anyone**_ love you, Mundane?"

"Yes." Simon began after a long pause, his eyes downcast. He couldn't make head or tails of where the conversation was currently going, but again Jonathan urged him on silently, if not more threatening this time around; the elder boy seemed to wait patiently for his answer now but his long fingers rested against his family's ancestral blade, Heosphorus, and Simon knew well enough by now that it was a threatening stance. The Morgenstern's were so skilled with blades that the boy would have the blade out of the sheath and his head cleaved off before he had the chance to call out, probably even blink. "Yes I suppose my sister Rebecca would still remember me. I still remember her at least."

"You can count yourself lucky then, Mundane." Turning, he looked to the door with an air of defused regality, like an exhausted monarch that was just beyond repair. He seemed broken in that moment and the door seemed to stop rattling against his strong arm all at once. Perhaps Clary had heard the new tone her brother spoke in, or perhaps she felt it. The connection between the two was always phenomenal.

"You have been given so much more than what I have been denied. That human affection you're ravished in is taken from _**somewhere you know**_. So when I desire something, yes, I will get what I want. I'll be keeping Clary to myself today, thanks." Jonathan called, over his shoulder as he wrenched the door open. The red headed girl darted out and the motion had her against his chest in an instant as he turned and dragged her back inside tucked neatly against his chest. Her wide-eyed expression told Simon all he needed to know; she'd been expecting this to have ended with his blood splattered along the walls. She struck him only twice, demanding to be let go, but they all knew her heart wasn't in it. "Consider it retribution for the things you steal from me on a daily basis, _**Mundane**_."

Bitterness had ebbed into his tone and his nose had shriveled upward in disgust. Clary looked about to protest, but he shut her up with a wilting look to his black eyes and his sneer. With that the door slammed shut, cutting off the plaintive cry the girl gave. Nodding mutely, Simon dragged his feet back to Clary's room, waiting the day out. The party was mere hours away anyway. How much trouble could he possibly get into in such a short amount of time?

He'd just have to find a way to occupy himself in the meantime until it was time to get ready.

_**XOX**_

Jace sat silently in the office, his hands clasping each other before him. The room was cold, but he had nowhere else to be, no want to be anywhere else, for that matter. He had a book spread over his knees, one that Alec had specifically suggested, but his eyes coursed over it not really taking in anything. He heard the door open and close behind him but he didn't budge. His eyes staring at the single word that kept sending him back to the beginning. He remembered every detail, down to every hair on her pretty red head, and he often wondered if he had done something that day, something that had changed his future irrevocably. It was like he was living lost in that first moment that she turned and met his gaze, and everything after that had blurred in a way that seemed unexplainable. From that day forth he had strived to remain by her side, forever, and he reveled in the completeness he felt every time he was near.

A coming out party… The whole idea was so absurd. He didn't want to give her up so someone else could court her, someone who was more acceptable a choice for a girl in her status, someone that would try to make her happy. Tonight she would be paraded around for thousands to see, to be made desirable and on display for everyone to see how precious she was and what a match she would make. Tonight marked his last chance at happiness with her too. He either moved on her now or someone else would, and with how Clary's heart operated, she was sure to love anyone that she settled on with every thrum of her heartbeat, with every ounce of her being.

She deserved to be happy, but he was willing to fight for her. He'd never given any thought to where his life would go past serving Valentine and his needs, but he couldn't see himself without her. He would do everything in his power to keep her in his life.

"You entered my study, uninvited. Why, Jace?"

The voice startled him, making Jace jump a good foot from the chair before he sheepishly turned to watch the father he had idolized, who had created the girl he pinned for now. He was formidable and threatening to everything he held dear.

Standing, the boy shuffled behind the chair, his hands playing idly on the back. His fingers continuously twitched, giving him a very nervous appearance. As his eyes closed, he imagined Clary standing behind him, and his pulse wavered again nervously, and he swallowed dryly.

"I have always done my best to do right by you," Jace began strongly despite the strain his body was putting itself through. He felt like he was in danger of spontaneously lighting on fire the longer the smoldering gaze lingered on him. His pulse was leaping in his throat, making it harder to breathe as his head swam and Jace had long begun to sweat under the intensity. "A-a-and be-because of th-th-this, I-I have to confess… you ha-have the right to know-"

He couldn't bring himself to ask what he had come here for. It had been his intention to ask for his daughter's hand, to at least get his blessing to try for her. After waiting here for almost an hour, however, he had lost all of his nerve. If it weren't for the looming figure behind him, he would have bolted away to safety.

"Know _**what,**_ Jace?"

Valentine did little to help the situation. He always was a domineering man, nut when he spoke with that authoritative, grating voice, Jace felt suddenly spineless without any legs to stand on.

"_**AlecandIarereadyforamission."**_

Well _**that**_ was unexpected. Valentine expected far worse, knowing the relationships that his son formed and the hazards the boy tended to indulge in. The habits of running head first into danger seemed to run his chances of dying bloody and in pieces pretty high. By far, this was the pleasantest of surprises. He let out the breath he had been holding.

After a few moments of awkward silence, the boy yanked his collar down and to the side to expose the lightly tanned flesh beneath, where a swirling mark sat as his evidence, stark against his collarbone. He probably hadn't meant to flash it, but rather aid in his breathing, but Valentine saw it, a courage rune, not that it helped him much now. The boy was still in deep fear of him, as if he would send him to meet their maker over something so trivial.

He had written off Alec ever forming a bond with his son, but this boy had extended his hand in friendship to everyone. Perhaps Jace would finish off where Jonathan had started after all.

Jace flinched as a hand came down on his head, expecting a strike. Instead, Valentine smoothed the soft curls affectionately instead, "Bring me Clarissa, and I will give it consideration. I have need of her now, and she seems to have been running from me."

_**XOX**_

As gently as he could, the starlight haired boy slammed his sister against the door. The girl was less resistant when he went easy on her, guided her where he wanted her to be rather than forcing her. Coercion came only when he couldn't persuade her to do as she was asked, and few times did he ever resort to violence.

She already had a fair share of understanding with that reward system and avoided his wrath almost as much as he avoided hers.

"Let. Me. Go."

The tension in his arms didn't give up nor falter as she tried to shove him off of her. He never asked, he only took, stole. Her brother didn't take orders he gave them, and she had fallen for so many years to his needs and wants effortlessly.

No longer. She tired of this game she had no hope of winning. She loved her brother, but she refused to allow him to abuse her to sate the raging bloodlust that had started by her having _**friends**_. She was allowed to have companionship, regardless of any relationship she might have with this boy or any other, it didn't matter. Jonathan wouldn't be allowed to dictate who she hung out with and when.

Finally breaking free, Jonathan desperately grabbed for her hand as she turned half a pace into the room, looking positively feral. He wanted her near, always near. She was the only one to ever show him unconditional love and affection. Jace didn't count in that category, not yet. From childhood she helped him come to terms with this monster within that ebbed at the edges of his sanity.

As she distanced herself, his hand tightened on her wrist, and he forced himself not to drag her back to the hazardous safety of his arms. Any moment he could lose control and hurt her, but without either Clary or Jace he was without hope. He held her hand between them in a bone shattering hold, and he raised his gaze from the last desperate connection to her dark eyes. She was furious.

"I'm not a toy, Jonathan." Clary viciously snarled, yanking her hand away. Her brother watched her, mildly amused as he shoved her back against the firm plane of the door and he raked his hand up her thigh to her hip, his thumb caressing the curve of the protruding bone against the soft silk blue dress.

He wondered sometimes if any woman would please him the way she did. It wasn't just on a genetic level, what he found attractive in his sister. It was her entire entity, from her gently rounded curves, to her wild curls, and even the wounded animal he was growing fond of. This darker look was out of place on her soft face, and he wanted it gone.

The hand that held her wrist traveled up her arm, entangling his long digits in the luscious red curls, and he went to press a chaste kiss to her full lips until a sharp jolt stopped him, forcing him back.

Her hand had smacked him across the face, her nails catching the flesh enough to draw blood from the corner of his bottom lip. Pain blossomed in his cheek, striking it a bright tempered pink red, and his jaw throbbed in tempo with his heartbeat. His eyes widened in confusion and then narrowed, watching her, reading her.

Suddenly threatened, he chose wisely to give her enough room to escape him. As he side stepped, his hand rose of its own volition to caress the broken flesh that heated across his face. He stepped back just as the air seemed to boil with a faint sizzling noise that smelled like astringent to him, clean and burning. Jonathan's throat tightened and left him inexplicable impeded him from doing anything to make her stop unless he had little care for his limbs.

Darkly, she gave him a leveling look, her eyes narrow as she shoved past the boy. The door yanked open and she was gone without shutting it. Stepping out into the hall a few seconds after, he was thankful the Mundane had taken the hint and gone, and he gave a half- hearted chase after her. They shouldn't make a scene, "Clary-!"

She turned momentarily; her pause was only to give him the respect he deserved as her family, even though she wanted to get as much space between them; she had even passed her room up and was heading towards the other wings of the house. Tentatively he stepped towards her, which sent his little sister into a shaking frenzy. Her head whopped back and forth, sending her hair bouncing wildly. "Leave me alone, Jonathan Christopher!"

With that she bolted, leaving that last image he burned in his mind that look of hate, and the pain of angelic power burning him everywhere and nothing to soothe himself with.

_**XOX**_

"Clarissa!" Jace called, just in time to see her dress waver behind her as she dodged down another corner.

Clary, in a hurry as always, took pause, hearing the way her name dripped from the boy's full lips, and turned halfway around, her arms twisting away from her sides to elegantly float out around her as her dress swished from the rapid movement.

Jace approached rather quickly, faster than she had anticipated and the red haired woman watched as his muscles seemed to ripple beneath his clothes in the most tantalizing of displays. He watched her too, and the intensity almost made her melt as she leaned against a closed doorway.

He noticed the glossiness to her eyes and the wet still clinging to her lashes, but he brushed it aside. It was none of his business.

"Your father bids an audience with you, Clarissa." Jace's hard amber eyes watched her, always they watched, lingering on her like a man whom dying of thirst in a desert looked on a poisoned lake knowing he had no choice but to drink from it. His gaze perplexed and perturbed her, because deep in her soul she knew she that he was her brother's man and by extension her father's son, as much as she was her father's daughter, and she could not place if the looks he set upon her were of a watchful guard as they should have or of a fearful man as he could be.

Jace watched her curiously, as the gorgeous young woman thought throug h her options. He could see the gears turning in her head as the brilliant green eyes darted this way and that before they finally rose, settling to rest on his. He wondered if her full name had bothered her that much, but he was trying to distance himself from her in any way he could. After some time, she nodded her assent, and stepped aside, resigned to allow him to lead her to the office or the library where she knew her father would be this time of day.

Their walk was nearly silent, and the quickest moment of Jace's life that he longed to repeat forever. Regardless of their physical and emotional distance, he wished he could keep her, stay with her, but knew quite plainly it was impossible. He would always be four steps behind her, close enough to see her happiness, but never enough to experience it. The entire trip took less than ten minutes but he reached for her hand at least a few hundred times only to shoot himself down.

She wouldn't want him, she couldn't. Clary was the star that burned brightest in this world, and he was Jace, the orphan, the unwanted child that was a inconvenience to her family.

The only person to ever make him feel wanted always was Jonathan, and he was abusively using him for his own needs.

Sweeping past him, her soft dress brushed his hand when at long last he had gotten enough nerve gathered to go for it and she muttered a thank you before shutting the office door in his face.

So much for nerves.

He'd have to ask Alec for a better rune before he made a fool out of himself again.

_**XOX**_

She spoke harshly, her eyes not meeting his. She had seen it then, and it had upset her. This man cared more for the experimentation then he did his own children. No wonder Clary had been almost in tears when she had first arrived. The young girl had given her a malicious glare, wearing a face that Maryse never saw her put on as she shoved past her. The poor girl thought she aimed to replace her mother, and perhaps she did, but she didn't need Valentine's daughter to approve of their relationship. She just needed him to enjoy it, "The arrangements are in order. Everything will be in time for tonight._**"**_

Valentine nodded his understanding, still firmly placed at the window. He faced the forest to the east, the dark shadows within the trees of great interest to him, and the dark haired woman wondered why. Standing right behind him, she saw nothing in the woods to warrant his inattentive behavior.

Perhaps Clary had said something to hurt him.

"Amatis is positively mad." Maryse looked out the window, busying herself if nothing else as she looked after his gaze, waiting for something to jump out and suddenly make itself known, "Keeps begging me for her husband's son back."

He only nodded his understanding slightly, recognizing small talk for what it was.

"How fairs my daughter's fiancé?" Maryse asked, settling down into the chaise, her head pillowed by her arm. She had watched from a much nearer distance than Valentine's own wife as he descended into madness, watched as he shot himself up with angelic blood. He reacted far less to such small doses, and she wondered when his need would grow again, and they would have to go down and drain the angel in the basement.

In a hope that she might get closer to this man, she had willingly taken an administered supplement, exposing her daughter to some kind of monster's essence years ago. In the long run, it had worked, but at an unknown cost. She loved her daughter, regardless of her quirks, but sometimes she wondered if certain qualities where her responsibility. Maryse felt responsible, nonetheless, for Isabelle's happiness, for all of the children's happiness really, Valentine's and her own, and even Jace, and she accepted the mad notion that Valentine knew best making breeding pairs for each of his experiments. At least this way someone could truly understand her wickedly lovely daughter.

"He was specifically uninvited to tonight's party." At long last he responded with a full sentence, turning away from the woods. A shifting in the foliage, against the wind caught her attention before the wood fell silent once more. Ironic, that once the man's attention drew away its focus that something interesting finally happened.

She watched now, waiting for anything to emerge. Nothing came as the minutes ticked by and at last she too dragged herself from the window, to follow Valentine back to the ballroom to finalize everything.

Neither of them saw the shuttering of the forest again, nor heard the lone howl that pierced the settling peace of sunset off in the distance, nor the way all of the wildlife had gone eerily still now, the birds all gone and the deer at the edges of the forest, unwilling to break for the clearing just yet. A buck darted out, rapidly trying to evade, before it took off away from the forest up over a hill to disappear over it.

Within moments, a woman in a thin, strappy white sundress walked out of the wood, raven hair whipping lusciously on the wind, catching fire in the dying light.

No one would ever conceive what would occur this night. Many would try, but none would ever get close enough to make any difference. It made the girl smile viciously as she continued her prowl along the plains, her destination the great house not two miles off of Brocilind Forest.

_**XOX**_

Taking her little brother into her arms, Clary peered down at the toddler that clung to her like a lifeline as she bounced him on her hip. She remembered a year or so this wouldn't have been possible. She had been so mad.

How could her father have forgotten her mother like that? Didn't he still love her, miss her?

She was out there somewhere.

_**She **_missed her mother desperately.

Max gurgled and tugged at one of the columns of hair to aid its escape from her bun, squealing as the silky lock escaped his grasp and bounced free. Glancing down at the young boy, Clary smiled, pressing a warm kiss to the smooth expanse of his forehead.

"Guck Caree!" he gurgled. His pudgy hand swiped at the wet spot on his forehead as the girl swooped in for another.

Isabelle responded with a despondent sigh, tugging twice at the mass she had been working on for almost a half hour, letting the curls cascade over her shoulders before beginning again. Reaching over, the girl coated her fingers yet again in a liquid meant to smooth, and rubbed it through the locks before setting to the layering braids that would sweep her hair upward prettily once they were done.

That is if Max didn't have other plans. This was now the third attempt that the child had messed up her arduous task, and she was beginning to see why the housemaids normally did her hair; Clary had the thickest hair she had ever seen, and was wildly unruly without constant attention. Without having it up it was a wonder that it didn't look like a nest all the time from the countless knots Isabelle had encountered.

Twisting one braid back towards the base of her neck to rest for the moment, she saw their brother's chubby hand moving back to her work. Her hand came down on his with a soft crack, "Maxwell!"

"Szzyyyy!" His face began to scrunch together and the tears were coming now, whether they were from injury to his ego or his hand, the girl's couldn't tell and Clary had no choice but let the boy go as he began wriggling around in her arms, reaching for his other sister. He climbed down quickly, and wrapped his pudgy arms around the irritable girl's legs, hugging tightly.

This was still taking some time to get used to. She and her once best friend now were family, bound together by this young, bumbling infant that demanded the attention of both sisters always.

Leaning forward, she settled her chin on the slighter girl's shoulder, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Clary's eyes darted to look at her in the reflection and smiled, letting Max slide away to tumble in the dark haired sister's clothes strewn all over the floor. He was lost in moments, much like a kid in a ball pit, but both girls didn't seem to care much. They would hunt him down when they were done here, and the task would get done doubly as fast.

"What are you wearing tonight?" Isabelle asked when she began the last- minute task of directing the curls the way she wanted them, a final step before the set the look with hair spray. Clary nodded to the bed where she had earlier tossed a mass of deep blue silk that looked rumpled and pinned by dainty butterflies, silver and clear in color.

The expensiveness of it needed no explanation, but Clary gave it freely enough, "Jonathan insisted."

"Of course he did."

Clary looked at the jealous look that passed over her oldest friend's face and wondered what that might be about. The woman straightened, and walked over to the dress in question, and picked it up gently. The soft fabric shifted in her hands like fluid and as it moved the butterflies caught the light with the tips of their fluttering wings down the train, a delicate dusting of gold on the tips of their wings, falling to sweep the ground as she investigated its worth.

Something fell from the folds and Isabelle glanced at what first appeared to be a slip before she knelt to retrieve it.

"What's thi-" A second dress, one in champagne chiffon with a corset lacing the bare back and a golden satin brocade cinched at the waistline. Looking to Clary, the answer was clear enough and she threw the thicker dress side, pressing the luxurious gown to her body.

"That would be yours."

Clary watched, pleased with herself as the girl began stripping without any preconceived notion of modesty, desperate to pull the beautiful dress on. She had done well, even if Jonathan would be mad that she had not spent all of his money on herself.

Tough, the little bastard deserved a good measure of disappointment.

Leaning back in the chair, the Morgenstern girl spun her curls back into place again, before plucking the can of hairspray off the dresser and setting it herself.

Her sister deserved her own time to enjoy this, anyway.

_**XOX**_

There was very little that didn't interest her in the Shadow Hunter world. Everything was so vibrant and alive that it was a wonder that such a place existed in the same universe that housed her own world, where there was only decay.

She had followed the faint beacon of the eternal glow that the city emitted for nearly three weeks and her feet were aching in a way she had not experienced before. Aline had journeyed alone across the Asian continent, and though the change of scenery was nice the trip had taken much longer than she had anticipated.

She was meant to arrive in early spring when the fall, but her understanding of time's passage was limited. She had endured the end of a blistering winter and a wondrous spring when the earth was alive and new, much as her life would be now, and it was autumn before she knew it. There was a bitter chill coming fast now and she was elated when she finally spotted the ever present glow on the horizon that Lilith had spoken of. She was not willing to pass another winter out in the wastelands. Even the Nihon monsters had abandoned her in her journey.

_**Go there... Redeem your birthright.**_

The gates stood formidable and untouched by time in a way that was impressive; almost as old as the home she had made herself in China, it was glimmering and new and so far from decrepit. The fortress, as she could think of no better way to describe it, was iron clad when she tested its strength and finding no obvious weaknesses, she withdrew to gauge the likelihood that any other plan might succeed.

She was just about to try climbing over the wall and slipping down safely to the other side when a man called out to her, obvious in his stress, to ask her with some distress whether she had been attacked.

Sure enough when she glanced down she noticed her dress had been shredded to ribbons. It saddened her slightly and she couldn't understand exactly why. She had never given a second thought about her attire, why would she start now?

_**Because-**_ she reasoned with herself as she turned distasteful eyes to her once pretty golden dress, now covered with splotches of dirt and splashes of blood and ichor- _**today she would meet the boy, the one who's flesh paved the way for her own: her should be Adam to his Eve.**_

She had taken the dress from Beijing Institute, the last place her mother and father had lived with her in a family environment. She had stolen it intentionally, remembering the way the fire had caught the silk like it was ablaze; it was one of the few dresses that remained of Jia's and now it was destroyed to join the others that had fallen to vandalism and time.

She managed to dart past the guard just as he approached her, and she ran as fast as her tiny legs could carry here. The girl couldn't believe her luck. Not only had she gotten in but the poor creature standing watch was too stupid to follow and chase her back out. Oh the havoc she could make now that she was far enough into the ancient city.

In reality, the guard had taken pity on her. The girl looked horrified and mystified all at the same time. He had stood aside and let her skittishly dart around him, much like one might think a school of fish might move when they thought they were being pursued by a shark or the Merfolk. He smiled when the raven haired girl turned and looked back at him about a block away, her locks car hi g on the wind. She was safe now, she looked it, he reasoned, he had done the right thing letting her in. She was Nephilim, and after all, and this was the ancient city, the safest place for their kind to be, and the last barrio between their world and the demons that prowled in shadows.

Once inside no one have any indication that she didn't belong on the streets. She felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, a predator among unsuspecting prey as Nephilim in luxurious finery bustled past her. Women shifted past her in flowing dresses made of statins and silks and chiffon, the fabrics fluttering like flags on the breeze behind them as they past arm in arm or occasionally accompanied by men in oddly stiff shirts and layered oddly cut jackets, tied together with a matching bit of rope that they attempted to strangle themselves with.

The Asian girl watched, amused at the faces of the Nephilim as they passed her. They pitied, they wondered, they worried but none of them feared. It was the first time she could remember that blatant fear never approached their eyes where she was concerned. Even Maryse grew to fear her. Perhaps these creatures were more given to curiosity than anything else.

Looking around, she felt inadequate for the first time in her life. These people were so certain of themselves, so full of poise and grace in a way that she could never see herself being. Suddenly she felt unworthy; was she doing the right thing in coming here to meet him, the boy with her eyes?

She didn't feel so anymore.

_**XOX**_

"Are you trying to get into the party?" A voice called rich and deep, drawing her from her self- doubt.

She looked up to the smug face of a boy about her age with gentle wisps of brown curls and two toned eyes, one brown and its partner green, but both had orange amber around the pupils. He seemed calculating and curios all at once, and as he watched her, Aline noticed him shift his weight to the left side and he slid a fairly marked hand out of his pocket and folding it across his chest, the angle hiding a rune she had not seen before on his forearm, "that makes two of us."

He appraised her, she read it in his eyes, could see it reflected on his face, "I wouldn't let you in though, _**not looking like that**_,"

The brown haired boy's eye twitched and his face skewed up adorably in confusion. _**Why had he said that?**_ It was incredibly rude and mean and he hadn't really meant it. She appeared tired and ragged, but underneath all of the grime she carried he was certain that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on, exotic and wild in a way he had never experienced. He would have let her in, no matter what she was wearing.

She was like playing with fire and reveling in chilling the burn. Her lips upturned wickedly in response but her eyes were angry. He had not made a good first impression.

**No,** he corrected himself_**, he wouldn't have let her in**_. Something in her dark eyes turned him on an off of the idea like a flickering light bulb, igniting and dying out with every shift of her black orbs, every flutter of her equally dark lashes.

He shifted minutely away and looked around. People were ignoring them for now, but he didn't doubt someone would eventually see him milling about with the haggard looking girl. He looked back to her, contemplating if he could trust her to follow him or not.

She watched him, irritably aware of the stare he laid upon her. Was she that odd looking that he could not draw away his gaze?

It was familiar and distant, welcoming and closed off. She had never come across a being so all over that she could not place whether it intended to be friend or foe. After a moment, the boy ran his hand through his hair, an off-kilter smile tugging at his pale lips, "Sorry. I don't know when to keep my mouth shut."

"If you really want to go in though, you really ought to change." He turned his back to her, his eyes darting along the rooftop for his way in, sizing up his options of infiltration. The exotic girl was a change but nothing but a distraction. "Either way, you need to get off the streets. In a few hours only the city's urchins and defects won't be inside the gates of that house when the party goes underway. Anywhere out here is dangerous."

If she were to somehow make it inside, then maybe she'd be worth his time. Until that, his attention would be directed elsewhere. With his gaze upward and scanning, he stepped away from her, approaching the gate. His hand shoved deep into the thick of the plant thriving in tall gate and smiled brightly. He glanced back over his shoulder back at the beauty that watched him curiously as the plant rose up to wrap around his wrist of its own accord. With a sure footed grip, he gripped the vine tightly and launched himself upward, embarking up the plane of elegant iron work where the strength had been left to question by the rapid overgrowing ivy.

Aline glanced at the dress and wondered how she would come across such a replacement. With a last irritable noise directed at the boy who had insulted her, she ripped the silk top layer away, leaving herself in the blood red thin layer beneath. Her hands crumpled the once pretty silk and pitched it angrily to the dirt below.

It wasn't perfect, but it was better this way.

Running after him, she set off to follow him up the grated side of the gate. She was faster than he was, more agile, and once he reached the top of the gate's sharp peak, he stopped to find a way to twist over the edge and descend.

Aline, however, just stepped over the edge and leapt down, knowing enough that she could take the fall with ease from years of climbing and falling from greater heights than this gathering food and evading predators.

The boy turned, a wonder filled look pulling at his shocked face.

Perhaps he should have given her a second look. It wasn't like him to underestimate someone, especially a Nephilim. This time, she walked away from him, ignoring his plight. Sitting on the edge of the fence, he tightened his grip and leaned forward, trying to get her attention, "Hey! Wait a minute! Miss-"

"Hey I don't even know your name!"

Aline continued on without him, abandoning him the heights he had brought himself to. He anxiously sat there, waiting for her to return in vain. She had other things planned, and helping him with his fear of a ten foot fall was not among them.

"I'm Chris!" he cried, his voice trembling. He hoped that the power of his name would sway her. The Wayland's were a well-known family, albeit quiet and allusive. It was fair to say that no one but he and Valentine had seen his father in the past five years. The sound of his voice made her pause, but he had hope it had been the prior. It meant he had something to sway her somehow. "Wayland! I live just next door, if you help me... I'll… I'll-"

"You'll what?" Aline stood at war with herself, and her eyes drifted closed, trying to focus her energies to strategizing and thought. Nephilim were pack animals; it was a conclusion she had come up with at a young age. Her connection to Maryse could not be a fluke, simply her base nature. Yet this boy's plight did not bother her in the slightest. He was like any other creature she had encountered. He did, however, seem to have a better understanding of how things worked here and might still give her an edge on advancing further. Something about him however, was too strange for her to trust. The payment would have to be steep for her to go against her instinct. After all, they had not led her astray yet. Turning back to look at him, her face turned withering and lethal, her hand coming to rest at her hip as she leaned into that leg, "From where I'm standing, you have nothing else to offer me."

What did he have to offer her? Not much. The girl didn't seem to be materialistic like most her age, and she appeared wild. His strengths were minimal, and hers were unseen. She had surprised him already three times this night, and he could only assume it was only the beginning. "I'll owe you one?"

Swearing, the boy watched as he realized he had not won her over yet. Her brows rose and she laughed sharply, as if unsure if he was serious or not. When no alternation of his offer came, she shook her head, and left without a second glance.

Of course she would leave. What did he have to offer anyone, other than his name?

She hesitated again a few feet away, and looked back. _**Nephilim were pack animals**_. But she was not entirely Nephilim. She ought to accept both sides to her nature and accept them. Surely the side that demanded she walk away from him in his time of need was the demonic side. But now, a tiny voice cried inside of her heart, begging her to turn back and help him. She marched back to the fence and yanked the plant life away from the gate, thoroughly eliminating his way down the other side and making him lose balance. He swayed for a moment, before crashing down hard at her feet.

"You owe me _**'one'**_." She clarified, her gaze downcast and submissive, but her shoulders were set back and strong. She was unsure what exactly the payment was, but the nagging feeling in the back of her head was gone. "_**But we are not friends."**_

"I don't have any friends." The boy whispered loud enough for her to hear but softly enough that her silence could be justified by the deafness. He didn't have to admit it to her, but he had, and standing up he saw that that was the last kindness she would do him. She really was drawing hard lines that gave him no chance to breach, "So I wouldn't be good enough for you anyway."

"You're right." Aline called as she kept moving away, "But not for the reasons you think."

_**XOX**_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Saw a funny little gif the other day that was from the book where Valentine told Clary he didn't approve of her name. The author agreed. He would have called her Jonathan too.**_

_**Ba-dum-tch!**_

_**The title came from the band Tonight Alive's "Breaking and Entering."**_

_**For those of you trying to work things out, Max is Valentines son in this FF. I tried to allude to it as much but I feel that if anyone hasn't gotten it yet, then they deserve to know before they're just confused by the chapters to come.**_

_**Aline front: **_

_**There's a strong message that I was trying to pass on with Lilith and Aline's separation. As she parts from her mother, she calls her okaa- san for the first time. Now okaa- san (or okaasan without the hyphen) vs Haha lesson: Okaa- san is often used as a formal way to call someone's mother, but Haha is actually how one would actually call their own mother. It's informal, but it's comfortable. Aline grew up knowing Lilith wasn't her mother, surrounded by monsters who revered Lilith, because she still is the Mother of Warlocks (but let's face it, she's mother of ALL demons) and those beasts that prowled around would give her adequate respect. That being said, I have it in my mind that the intelligent ones would all address her as mother, and the form the Japanese demon- borne would give would be Okaa- sama, the most respectful way to call her. Aline in ending their relationship, both distance herself as well as establishes that dying affection changes the way she refers to Lilith. The woman that practically raised her is no longer close enough to informally address, and so she calls her Okaa- san, and tells her that she loves (daisuki) her, though the emotion has been pretty evasive through most of her life. Though she is what she is, and there has been little physical love shown on either side, she does love the woman, and the Lilith loves her. Choosing to leave and make her own way in the world will destroy what they had in their decrepit home.**_

_**Also I understand that Aline is Chinese, but for the sake of continuance, she's been exposed to Japanese monsters, so we'll assume she's picked up at least enough of the tongue. **_

_**Aline and Chris was an interesting thing to think about. It wasn't a dynamic I had planned on exploring, but I'm glad I did it. Like Isabelle and Jonathan, they click when the fae blood swings the right way. They don't always match up, but when they do, they feel the connection. This is also one of many reasons why Chris won't make an impression on Isabelle in the next half of this chapter. They're dealing with two faerie- bloods which are erratically changing. **_

_**On that Note…..The next chapter will probably be shorter compared to where I normally would post. I have a plot set where I was going to cut the end of this chapter off, but I felt like certain sections needed more, so rather than a 18k chapter, maybe you'll be getting two 9k ones. Something around there I hope. I do apologize for the lengthier time that I took to post. Was rather busy, started up a managerial course, as well as other fun around my workplace and home left me with little time to write. You should expect the next chapter within two weeks if all goes to plan (though not everything in life can be planned, if anything prevents me from posting within that time, I sincerely apologize.)**_

_**As always, thank you everyone for reading, and a special thanks for my reviewers.**_

_**You all are wondrous to me 3**_

_**Like it?**_

_**Review, Follow, Favorite**_

_**Till Next time, **_

_**TAORI**_


	7. You Must Make Up Your Own Mind B&E p2

Jace wasn't surprised by the turnout. Just knowing that there was a party that all were being admitted to, assuming they could afford a good enough gift, at the Morgenstern mansion and was being thrown for the wondrous beauty had people flocking faster than a red light illuminating the demon towers.

There had to be well over two thousand people stuffed into the grounds, and the Grand Hall was a writhing mass of swaying bodies, so much so that the band was set up in the balcony and had been roped off upstairs. It was a wonder that he could keep track of her at all. Then again, his world revolved around Valentine's needs and wants, and his family's. He hadn't lost track of Clary or her brother since the moment they walked into the room, and every moment since was like a blade in his chest. She was illuminating and vibrantly happy, and the kinship between them made them untouchable. Jace couldn't count how many people that had tried to draw either's attention for long only to burn out after a few moments.

Even he wouldn't be able to obtain her attention, should he choose to try for it. Jace wasn't up for rejection, however. Not now. He was content to observe, to protect, to stand in the side lines and see how she swelled with happiness, and later take his punishment happily for letting Jonathan see him staring at her.

Her world was full of glittering gems and satin brocade finery, so it seemed so natural, so fluid to see her twirling in the arms of another man. Her brother, a pale man that stood nearly two heads taller than the pale red- headed beauty, held her close enough for lovers, but no one seemed to notice or care enough to speak out about it. Spinning her once more, Jonathan let her spin herself into a mess, her royal blue gown swirling around her faster than her legs carried her. Tiny fixtures on her dress caught the candlelight across the bunched, bustle- style back to her dress as it spun around her, hundreds of crystal butterflies ready to take flight. Her brother seemed amused with himself, and when she had finally righted herself, Clary had fixed him with her deadliest of glares. She was so busy hating him, in fact, that she had all but missed the fact that he had already moved on to his next dance partner, and was leading the girl as far as way as he could.

He had always had that way about him, and it enraged Clary. Despite the unease he sparked in her, he always seemed to charm the pants off of anyone who made eye contact for too long.

Apparently some ditzy blonde this time had caught his eye, and her atrocious laughter annoyed Clary more than it angered her. She knew he'd lose interest soon enough and move on to the next.

She had accepted that she would have to face him tonight and civilly act like they were a well united family. It wouldn't do for anyone outside their tight group of family friends to know of the discord between Jonathan and her. Hell, right now only Isabelle really knew about the tiff from earlier.

She was so wrapped up in her self-hatred and the despising, seething glares at her own kin that she almost missed a question that had been aimed at her. Turning away at last, her soft pout seemed to melt away as she forced a half smile on, "I'm sorry...?"

Jace smirked, having already accepted her inattentive nature. He leaned in so that they were practically on top of one another and pulled a side swept curl that had escaped her braided bun behind her ear, before whispering softly into the shell of her exposed ear, "I asked if you wanted to get out of here."

His voice was gentle, a whisper against her ear, and she let it linger, floating around her head. Had his lips touched her ear? She swore she could feel moisture lingering, warmth spreading across her cheeks and chest as slight goose bumps rose up her arms._** Did she?**_ Honestly she would have liked to have never even come, but she was expected to be here. People would only get upset when they realized she had ditched her own party. She looked uneasy, surveying the room with a look of regal formality and her dainty arms wrapped under her breasts in an attempt to warm herself from the sudden chill he had brought her, "No, I'm fine. I'm sort of enjoying the party."

"People that are enjoying themselves don't typically make _**that**_ face, Clary." Jace's hand settled heavily on her shoulder, and slid down her arm to hook itself on her bent elbow.

Her brother returned rather quickly, as if he had sensed another man moving in on his sister. He sidled up beside her other side, "Perhaps you _**ought**_ to dance with Jace, _**little sister**_."

He glanced between the two, sizing them up. They seemed entirely too chummy with one another and he didn't like the way Jace was touching his sister. Reaching between them, he pulled the stray curl from behind her ear, twirling it in his fingers idly as he smoothed it back into place, "You both look_** positively bored **_standing around like wallflowers."

_**XOX**_

Isabelle swayed gently, looking around the room in silence as the soft music wafted around her. Many people looked to her, the gorgeousness of dress seemed to perplex many as they all knew who she was and she could swear she already heard rumors churning in their empty heads as they passed her, which had made her standoffish and her aloofness made her a subject of desire to those without enough nerve for her taste; they would all talk tomorrow when someone so powerful was not so close to earshot. Half of these people would have her favor for who she was already close to and who considered her a close ally in hopes to better themselves, and the other half desired her attentions for less than despicable practices. She had seen such a particularly watchful gaze examining her from across the room, and knew that it was hazed with desire, but had little desire of her own to make anything happen with the boy that watched her. She was used to those looks by now, and though the hungry expressions gave her a sense of worthiness, she could care less. Turning, she looked away from the boy with dirty brown hair watching her, and took a sip from her wine glass as she looked at the crystal prisms they had hung in the hall as one of them deflected light over her face and quickly spiraled away. They prettily casted a rainbow of colors along the golden and white marble walls, giving the once cold room a warmer feel to it. Isabelle thought of Simon and his ilk, and if they perhaps found it difficult to be in here now. Looking around, she caught another pair of eyes watching her as well from not far enough away, hot enough to melt, and with a huff, she stalked off to the wall where she saw a few acquaintances milling around. She would have to acknowledge him eventually, she knew, but until then, Michael Wayland's son would just have to wait.

The boy was certain she was one of the most gorgeous creatures he had ever seen. Shapely yet thin, she looked solid, and golden electrum whip she carried was coiled dangerously around the length of her long neck with the frayed end curling loosely to her breast bone, isolating the flesh between it and the sparking neckline of her pale dress, the long plunge that exposed her soft looking skin. She didn't look pleased to be there, and she drew long sips from the glass she swirled like they could magically transport her to somewhere she'd rather be.

Perhaps she was simply lonely. Being the stepdaughter of the Valentine Morgenstern must be rather intimidating even if it did have its perks. He hadn't seen a single person save for the hostess so much as walk with her, and the raven-haired beauty was left alone now for hours. If it had been him in that situation, he would have gone positively insane by now.

Stepping up to stand in her path, the boy ran his hand through his thick hair, exposing long ears with a double shot of metal running through the middle of the cartilage. He smiled, his jawline wide- squared off, and as his lips pulled back his back molars could almost be seen. She might consider him handsome, strong. He was a fairly good match, he was everything a good Shadow hunter ought to be but he simply didn't interest her. Looking back over his shoulder in distaste, she saw that Simon had moved on and was in fact milling with his tray of hors d'oeuvres, actually doing his job for one in his life.

"Look, I've been trying to figure out how to approach you all night." He began, looking up at her with his unique eyes through thick brown lashes. Isabelle was inattentive. She looked elsewhere as if she was looking for someone, anyone at all really. "You don't make it very easy to walk up to you without having to tackle you or something along that line of thinking-"

"Not that I would tackle you!" he cried out, comically distressed at what had slipped out so easily, "Not that you need to be tackled, spanked maybe, unless you like that sort of thing. Then I'm all about it. Do you like chocolate? I like choco-"

Raising an eyebrow at him, Isabelle let her jaw slacken, and stared in amazement as he continued to talk himself in honest circles, no doubt having lost any sensitivity to exactly what he was spewing. Did he _**ever**_ stop talking? He was making her so dizzy….

"I'm Chris." his hand extended friendly enough, and she rolled her eyes, taking the fingers lightly in her own and pressing down lightly once. The warm hand beneath hers rose, tightening over her long fingers and brought the hand to his lips, kissing the backs of her digits individually like they were back in the dark ages. It bothered her tremendously, but the boy just didn't take the hint as she twitched. "Our fathers were close friends once, Parabatai, actually."

"_**Lovely," **_Isabelle purred, tugging three times before managing to wrench her fingers from his hand angrily. She had half a mind to brush him away and leave without explanation, but she let the bitterness on her tongue escape without cause, lashing out instead, "Just what I need in my life, _**another**_ Jonathan Christopher."

The boy watched her confused. He didn't know? Walking away, he gave chase, not letting her get a moment alone from him. She dodged the mob, half hoping to lose him, but somehow she knew he would be right on her tail. Isabelle spotted Clary and rounded the corner of the people, diving between them and crashed against her sister in arms. All three of them looked to her like she had lost her mind and the green eyed girl tried to find what had her startled so.

"Jonathan Christopher Wayland, meet the other two Jonathan Christopher's, w_**hom make my life difficult**_," Isabelle stated, her toned agitated as she motioned regally, her hand waving to each as if to set an example, Jonathan looked at her as if she went mad, her hand gesturing to him, "Master Morgenstern."

"And Herondale," she moved her hand toward the other boy, who looked outright confused. Isabelle crossed her arms over her chest, forcing her breasts upward. The motion had the newcomer's eyes almost out of his skull.

"It's rude to point, Izzy..." came the lofty sound of the girl between the two, a fiery young woman in a vibrant blue dress that matched the lovely flowers in her red hair, and her hand came up and touched Isabelle's in a gentle, knowing touch. They looked at each other, and Clary excused herself from between the brothers, drawing Isabelle away by her waist as she read the agitation in the other girl's frame.

They apparently had a lot to talk about.

Chris raised his hand and wiggled his fingers awkwardly in a wave as he looked between who was left. The air between the three of them was so thick he could have choked and the other two boys exchanged a glance that spoke of their distaste on so many levels. Jace would never shoot down the newcomer, but Jonathan had no qualms about cutting ties with anyone.

"Sooooo." The heterochromia eyed boy began, his eyes wide. He'd like to have at least a few friends, even if he couldn't leave his house to see them in a reasonably timely fashion, but he felt awkward, thrown into a conversation and lacking in his ability to form a good start again, "Apparently our fathers all had the same dreadful sense of humor…"

The boy smiled warmly, but Jace just stared in confusion, and Jonathan, whom had already considered leaving, wagged his index finger as he turned to exit. The boy's black eyes widened considerably as he raised his eyebrows and he tightened his jaw as if to stiffen what he really wanted to say as he nodded in time with his finger, "Aaannnd _**THAT**_ would be my sign to leave. Sorry boys, you know, pretty girls, better conversations. I'm sure you understand."

He sauntered away and Chris looked the way he went, noticing a flutter of red silk disappear over the veranda balcony. Good, that pompous asshole deserved a surprise.

Turning back, the boy quickly came to the understanding that Jace had taken the opportunity to ditch him as well.

_**XOX**_

The white haired boy rushed out the open doors onto the veranda. The night was chilly, but it was acceptable considering how warm it had gotten inside with how many people wandering about. The outdoor terrace was empty, and for that the boy was thankful. The last thing he wanted to do was explain why he had ducked outside to his father. He had been very specific that Clary was to enjoy herself, and since he had been specifically mentioned, he was not to leave for any purpose other than by her wish alone.

With a deep sigh, the boy dug around his pocket, his fingers closing around on the vial of blood he carried on his person for emergency administration. He would overcome this later with Jace's help, but right now, knowing it rested so close to him eased the edge enough.

He had chewed the edge of his lip off already, and blood darkly tainted his taste buds. If he had the chance, he would have gargled with something with a higher alcoholic quality to be rid of the taste, but settled for the glass of wine he had snagged on the way out. Throwing it back, he tossed the glass over the balcony thoughtlessly as he forced himself to prepare to return to the party.

As he turned however, a flash of something red darted away from him, flitting into the brush.

Why was someone hiding out here?

Running after it, he gave chase and leapt to the second, lower floor, where he caught the escapee by a long, crimson sleeve just as she was about to take a leap towards the trees bellow. It was a girl, dressed in what appeared to be a red satin robe over a slinky black dress beneath. He used her loose clothing to gain a better grip on her and when she struck out at him, he viciously grabbed her wrist in a nearly bone- crushing grasp.

The wild- looking girl struggled, and she tugged roughly on the grasp he had on her forearm and the silk ripped. She had been so close to taking a sharp nose dive off of the balcony, and even now she leaned away as if she meant to take the plunge. She twisted her entire body, putting all the weight on her one wrist that he held fast as her other hand raked viciously across his grasp on her as if she might be able to hurt him enough to free her. Glaring up at him, she had resigned herself to desperate measures and was about to ram her knee upwards into whatever she could manage, until her gaze fell upon eyes that so matched her own and the pale pallor that she had been dreaming of now for over two years floored her.

Aline's knees gave out on her and with a defeated cry, she fell upon the railing and all the fight in her abandoned her as the desperation to receive his acknowledgement overtook her. Was this really…?

Her hand shot up to cover her lips as another noise escaped from deep within her, pathetic and even more full of desperation than the first.

Jonathan stared wide- eyed at the girl staring back at him, her chest heaving. A light breeze teased her hair over her shoulders and across her face, blotting out her vision in wisps until the wind died out, but she seemed too mesmerized to do anything about it and her inability made her seem even slighter, like a wounded animal staring at a predator waiting for that final blow to take away the pain. Releasing her, he watched as she began to shake as she stared up at him when his hand moved on its own whim to twist the escaped hair and tucked the ebony locks back into place behind her delicate ear. She looked up at him, large black eyes endlessly searching as her lashes fluttered in the breeze and from her rapid blinking.

She crossed her legs as she leaned back, a smile lightly playing on her thick lips, and she seemed to glow, joyous for some unseen reason. Jonathan could clearly see from the safety of his position that her lips were cracked and stained with blood. Not hers, either, as the dried crimson seemed smeared and the remnants were flecked across her jaw and chin as well. Her eyes looked affectionately at him, like he was a lover of hers once, and as she watched him she sighed lovingly, so like the sighs that escaped and were stolen from Jace's lips when they had been kissing. It unnerved him and with the completion of this situation, he would doubly question stepping out onto a dark and secluded corner of his house that security was not present, "You're as perfect as I dreamed."

Taking a step back, the boy quickly backpedaled. No, he now realized, she was covered in blood. It was under her nails and up her arms too. She didn't have the dignity, or the care, or perhaps the forethought, to clean herself up before coming here. What kind of psychopath was this girl? What kind was he? He had touched her of his own free will, hadn't he? She could have been violent and dangerous to him, and he had held her, kept her close and within striking distance without knowing anything about her.

Dreamily, she slid from the rail, to her bare feet, crossing the distance with out- stretched hands.

"Jonathan…" So close now, he could see the force beneath her skin to remain submissive and weak. She was neither of these things; if any words would describe her now, Jonathan would have assumed they would all fall under the categories of dangerous and nut- job. Who in _**the hell**_ was this cuckoo? "How I have _**dreamed**_ of you."

_**XOX**_

Clary felt like she had been searching for either of her brothers for hours now. Once she caught the flash of golden locks however, she made her way quickly through the throngs of people, shoving some out of the way when they just didn't get the hint that she was in a hurry, though most of the party- goers dove out of her way as if she was a tank.

Coming up behind Jace, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, making the tall boy jump and twist painfully around.

She supposed that she was lucky. Jace should have responded as if it were an attack; that was how her father had raised them, and he responded at first as if he would strike first and ask questions later.

He eased when he saw it was her, however, and apologetically looked to the woman he had been talking to about Academy position openings and the likelihood that Jonathan or he might come to teach there, and turned back to the girl that clung desperately to him, "Clary what are you-"

"Get me out of here," Clary stopped him, taking her hand in his gently. "You asked me if I wanted to get out of here, and now is the opportune moment."

With a single tug, he followed effortlessly by taking the lead and escorting her through the mob back out the front exit, curious where she might want to go, but not enough to bother asking as they slipped past hundreds of people that watched them with vaguely hidden curiosity.

He would wait until the prying ears were off of them. Then again, in this house the Walls had ears and the doors had eyes. Somehow, everyone's secrets seemed to come to be common knowledge here. Everyone but Valentine's, but then again, most people had a healthy dose of self-preservation when it came to the head of the Morgenstern clan.

Ducking out of the Grand Hall, he let Clary lead the way out into the closed off part of the house, feeling like they were skipping out without anyone noticing, when in reality probably was just coming to terms that they weren't coming back.

_**XOX**_

Aline gave chase, and quickly fell upon the man, her arms closing tightly around his waist as she buried her face in the soft suit jacket he wore, the shawl- like fabric over her arms and the sleeves rubbing luxuriously against him. It was comforting, even if the crazy bitch was putting him on edge

"_**I was made to be yours," **_the girl purred warmly against his chest, "You can gladly do what you wish with my flesh, my life. I was made only for your happiness, my Jonathan."

Jonathan looked at the girl incredulously. _**She was his other half?**_ How pitiful. She was nothing in comparison to Clary- why even present her as an alternative to what he already knew completed him? This was the Eve to his Adam? How ridiculous. As if she could ever be compared to someone like him.

Her soft lips pressed eagerly to his throat, and he allowed it, reveling in the feel of her against him. This was the first girl to throw herself at him, and who was he to complain? She claimed to be his other half and he reserved the right to see that put to the test.

Her hand delved underneath his coat, and slipped it off with little restraint. He seemed to be letting her lead this first meeting, but without knowing where to go, she had no idea how to please him.

No man ever denied physical affection, however, and so she continued when he did not stop her.

Reeling, he gave a cry of disapproval, but she gave chase, falling against him with a kiss pressed urgently to his bottom lip. She wanted to feel every part of him, to breathe him in and become one being, like she had dreamed that they one day might do.

Gently, the fingertips searching over his bicep touched something near his shoulder that seemed to burn under her ministrations. It didn't hurt, but it was offsetting, like an electrical current running along his skin. Glancing back at the mark she traced softly over the white silk dress shirt, he could see a blood red, charred scar blooming up and staining the fabric.

He yanked the shirt away to look incredulously at a mark, a dark scar much like a faded mark that stood out exactly where he had seemed to spontaneously bleed, but there was no open flesh. Just a scar, in the shape of an upturned, clawed hand inspecting a pyramid in the light. Had that always been there?

"How did you-"

This had to be witch craft or some other wickedness. No one would ever walk up to him and offer themselves up like this. He didn't trust her, but curiosity grounded him. What if this had nothing to do with her? What if she spoke the truth and this really was the other half of his soul? Narrowing his eyes at her, he could have smirked as she floundered, trying to think of another way to prove herself to him.

Mutely, she shrugged away the fold of her gown, exposing the front of her bony shoulder. Sure enough, there on the left corner of her collar bone in the indent of her shoulder was the same mark. Something in his chest tightened, and against his better judgment, he let her draw closer to him, her arm wrapping around his waist. She gestured that he ought to follow her with a flick of her head, and he did; what other option did he have but follow the girl that seemed to have more information than he did.

"Why do you have the same mark as me?" he hissed, and the girl didn't seem inclined to respond, happy to lead him to more questions but absolutely no answers.

"I told you." Softly, her voice carried to his ears, a gentle lilt that sounded sing song despite the heavy accent. "I'm meant to be your Queen. Our mother told me this, and she never lies. Everything I was made to be was made to please you in the end."

"If I agree to take you as my queen, what could you bring to our union?" He found himself idly asking the girl who stared at him with wide, black eyes. He still didn't buy her story completely, and he was admittedly put off that she had called his mother her own, but he would let her talk herself into her own grave if she insisted. She innocently shied away, her full mouth opening from its pout.

Her dark head tilted, sending the long silky locks flying from their momentary coaxed submission in the wind and she struggled to fix it again over her shoulders and behind her ear to look impressionable enough to him, her fingers running rapidly through it, a few tendrils coming to hide her left eye. Long, tapered fingers raked it all back again, demanding order as she tucked it behind her ears, her eyes adverted.

Perhaps Chris had done right by her, forewarning her that she was not presentable. The raven- haired girl thought long and hard, contemplating her answer. Honesty was key here. She knew how Jonathan looked at her, recognized the mistrust reflected back at her, but she would gain his trust soon when he knew she was nothing but truthful with him.

She must think a good wife for him was a submissive wife, one that stood idly be rather than seizing the moment at hand.

Pulling from his side, she spun prettily in the moonlight, tilting her face to bask in the washed out light as she folded her arms around her back before tilting her face to the side and regarding him. When she turned back to gaze at his equally dark eyes again, hers pinched at the corners making her almond eyes even thinner, and a wide smile spread wickedly over her thick, red lips and a chill ran down his spine.

_**"I'd have them on their knees, begging for the end. No one **_would survive my_** endless wrath, **_and you,_** my king **_would be_** victorious."**_

Turning back, she descended the staircase and led him on further into the garden. She seemed genuine in her promises. Aline would reign down with madness but not much else. He doubted she, or any other person for that matter, would ever love him, though desire would keep her as rabid as ever.

She would try her damndest, however. Something about her just gave him that impression. Returning her wickedness, he smiled back at her, gesturing her forward.

"Come along then." he delegated, taking her hand in his larger one. Aline gave a murmur of ecstatic pleasure and fell against his side, lacing their fingers together. "We have a lot to catch up on."

_**XOX**_

"Where do you want to go?" Jace asked softly, once the door to the kitchen was shut and they were well on their way into the house. She looked ragged, and nearly out of breath when she twirled around to look at him with wide eyes.

"I thought you had a place in mind, Jace!"

Did she really just bail on her own party to stand around and do nothing?

Nothing with Jace, mind you, so that really wasn't nothing. Clary could manage herself oogling him for days without really minding it if she had nothing else to occupy her mind. She had sketchbooks of sketches full of him as her subject and even if he gave her nothing else, she would have some things to remember and draw later in the quiet of her room; the way the light had hit his hair alone, and that smug, knowing look he had shot her was enough to keep her content for weeks.

He had looked amazing tonight, strong and confident in a way she had only ever described her brother as. It made her heart tighten at the thought.

His jaw slackened, and his full lips fell apart drawing her undivided attention. What had she been thinking? She really hadn't the foggiest anymore and the longer that he stared at her with those warm, golden eyes, the further she lost control of herself.

"I figured you had something in mind worthier of your time and much more enjoyable than having the masses drool over your wealthy lifestyle." Jace admitted with a shrug and a gentle softness to his voice. He noticed the intensity of her eyes as they wandered with a purpose, "Though I can privately worship you, if that's what you'd like. But you do seem to have that skill mastered."

Shaking her head to clear the fog that had settled deeply in the cracks and crannies of her mind, she quirked an elongated eyebrow at him, "What?"

"Nothing, forget it." But it wasn't nothing. Clary had heard him quite well enough; it wasn't that kind of what.

Turning half around, she gave him a partially sheepish smile as her fingers closed, gently touching the top of his hand. Her touch shocked him, it must have, and he quickly withdrew, drawing away a few paces away as if she meant to harm him, which was utterly absurd.

Jump him, maybe.

Pushing down the brilliant blush that warmed her cheeks, Clary was thankful that the lights had been put out as a deterrent for wandering about their house besides the armed guards stationed along the perimeter of the interior rooms of the house. The ground floor was open to the guests, which meant she wanted as far away from that as she could, and upstairs would alert her father of her leaving early when one of the people playing security reported to him later.

That left somewhere outside. Taking his hand in hers, she tugged him towards the back door that led out towards the disarrayed garden out back.

"I suppose outside then." Softly she whispered as she tugged him quietly behind her, "You can _**worship**_ me there in peace then."

A devious smile was shot in his direction. Well that cleared things up rather easily. Following her, Jace hoped there would be some more of this enchanting banter. It was the most he could hope for, at least until he manned up enough to ask Valentine to court his wondrously gorgeous daughter.

The girl led him into the thriving ivy and wildflowers that her mother had erected years ago that had been long neglected, and had taken on part of the fence line against every attempt at eradication the gardener had gave. It seemed the perfect place to escape to, and would give her ample seclusion with her adopted brother.

Jace, like many other people that lived in their home at one point or another, had never ventured this far out in the yard. The young girl supposed it came down to being too close to Brocilind Plains and thus the forest just past its reaches. It was one of Clary's favorite spots, something that tied her to her mother, and she was glad to share this place with him.

Pulling back a low branch, she ducked inside to take up the continued spiraling path to the epicenter, where an outdoor pavilion had been erected with a gorgeous glass ceiling and an outdoorsy feel lent to it by the thick mound of ivy covering it like a grass hill.

"This place… My mother built it. Everything she ever owned and loved is out here." She hesitated in the newly revealed doorway, and looked to him for only a moment of idleness before explaining herself to him, and her green eyes seemed distant even though her voice was full of emotion, "Now, it really has everything she loves in it."

Once beneath its cover, Jace could only wonder how often Clary had disappeared here when no one could find her. He would have come here plenty himself, had he known that it existed before, and he had no emotional ties to the dead woman. But this place was still special to her. The thought of Jocelyn ever loving him escaped him. She seemed to prefer her wicked son over him time and time again, but Clary seemed so certain to bust her bubble on the matter.

The girl busied herself with lighting a pit near the center of the room, and the blaze rose up to warm and light the room only minutely with a promise to grow over time, and Jace took that moment to investigate. Paintings were leaned in clusters around pillars and each was free of dust and decay, meaning Clary took care of them all, looked at every last one of them. One in particular caught his attention, a childhood reminder of all the bitterness the woman seemed to hold for him, as a family portrait busted his prior thoughts on the woman.

"Do you mind?" Clary asked, her voice cracking slightly as she retrieved a blank sheeted book from a table beside the outdoor fainting couch as she sat down. She raised it as if the meaning out to be obvious, but he just stared at her as he settled down on the other side of the couch and tucked his legs up on the cushions in front of him and wrapped his arms loosely around his knees, "I mean, if I draw you?"

"Go ahead and knock yourself out."

Suddenly gleeful, he watched as she paged through a good quarter of the book full of sketches of him as the subject matter until at last the found a blank page and set to work beside him, staring at him alternatively as she tried to memorize everything.

"You can talk, you know."

Ah so he could. Looking around the room, he searched everywhere and anywhere for something to talk to her about. He barely knew her outside of how she trained and the kindness she treated him with. Honestly, he knew pretty much everything about anyone else in the family, but she somehow eluded him entirely. "Sooo you draw too. Do you think that's a genetic trait or did you pick it up from-"

"Why would you ask me to leave with you with no plan and nothing to talk about?" Clary shook her head and leaned back, glancing up at him to catch another detail of his serene face as she blocked it out better on the page. "It seems a bit rude, if you ask me."

"Because you're the prettiest girl I have ever met." Jace admitted after several moments of pregnant pause, looking away from her to the stars above that caste muted light on them before his throat closed up, effectively shutting him up before he made even more of a fool of himself.

"For a personal guard you really need to have a better set of lies to fall back on."

Turning back to her, he almost seemed desperate, and Clary looked back up at him as he seemed to whip back to look at her incredulously, "It's not a lie!"

"Prove it then." The book loosely fell from her hands to her lap and to the floor. "If it's not a lie, then prove idmmmh!"

Turning to look at him, Clary gasped as his lips pressed down on hers, his hand coming to cradle the back of her head lightly like it might snap off without him there to tenderly support it. She leaned in, settling all of her weight against his strong arm that come to rest behind her hips and the couch. Her legs parted so he might comfortably come closer to her, and her breath hitched when he did.

He drew away after a few moments, and she found herself leaning towards his lips as they moved out of reach. They glistened deliciously, and she couldn't help but run her finger over the plush flesh appreciatively. His forehead fell against hers and his breath came over her face face in delicate puffs that sent her into dizzy spirals. Her leg flexed at the side of his hips, and he could have groaned from the friction as she shifted against him.

"You should probably order me to stop, Lady Morganstern, before I take this too far."

His lips spoke a different language then his tongue did, apparently, and he delved down and kissed her again and again hungrily. Sighing into his mouth, Clary melted into his hold and involuntarily, her leg came to hold him in place above her. She met every kiss with just as much passion as he did and was already out of breath before their lips ever touched.

"And if that's exactly what I desire?"

"Then your wish is eternally my command."

They were so wrapped up in one another that neither heard the crunch of leaves that announced a new comer.

_**XOX**_

"Jace." Came a tort bark. The two whipped around to look up at the door sheepishly, like children with their hands in a cookie jar. Jace leapt away from her just as their brother stepped into a room, his shadow cast around the room, but it was too late. Jonathan stood with his arms folded over his chest- a sure sign that the boy was viciously angry if his face didn't say it well enough. He had seen everything.

The younger boy ran past him before the Morgenstern boy could do any damage to him, only to get cornered by the Mandarin girl just out the door. She grabbed hold of Jace, and shoved him back towards the scene he fled from before asking for direction.

"Jonathan?" her voice called and Clary stood up with confusion. Who had he brought here?

"It's fine, let him go." The boy responded, and Clary could only assume that whoever outside did as she was told.

"New boy toy, Little sister?" Jonathan's dark voice drawled from her fireside, gesturing to the boy being held outside. He bent before her to retrieve her sketch book, flipping through it appraisingly before smirking at the girl as it landed on one of the many sketches of the boy. His black eyes settled on her easily enough again, but the feeling unnerved her as the smile's malevolence did not lessen. "What, nerd boy not enough for you these days?"

His hand flicked the porous bound paper into the flames, and a noise of pain escaped her as she watched it go up in the blaze.

"What _**would **_our father say, if he were to know that you were _**consorting**_ with a _**servant**_?" looking around he laughed and gestured with an extended finger, "_**And here**_, in our mother's shrine no less."

"Leave off, Jonathan," Clary hissed, pushing past the boy as if he were barely worth her time. He already set fire to her sketchbook and now he dared to try to make her feel bad yet again, "He's as much our brother as he is your servant. You best watch your mouth before I find father and-"

A hand clamped down over her shoulder and slammed her back against the wall of ivy that she had previously been nearly halfway done parting so she could slip out the doorway.

"You might be his darling little girl, Clarissa, but I'll always be his first born, his son. Regardless of how he cares for that boy he brought into our house, how he adores that rat your fraternizing with and loves and coddles you, I will always come out on top."

He stood menacingly over her, his dark eyes shining brightly as he glared down at her. His face drew close enough that if it were anyone else, she might expect a romantic moment. In this, and everything he did, she expected violence and hatred, "Tell me Clary, how does he taste? Is it as pure and innocent as daddy makes him out to be, or is he poisonous? Do you feel him rotting out your very existence, your pure, unstainable soul?"

Clary found herself unable to respond, immobilized by her brother's larger form. She turned her face away from his, focusing sternly on a far- off spot through the smoke from her cindering book. He would not win this, no not this time. She was so sure of her strength in this decision that not even he would sway her now; Clary would have friends, actual friends, whether Jonathan liked it or not. His chest melted into hers, and she felt rather than saw his arm come up beside her head to cage her from slipping away from him.

"I feel him twisting out my heart every time he looks at you." His finger teased the hard line of her exposed collarbone where no mark had yet to grace the feminine curve of her flesh. Bumps rose in response and he watched, pleased as the path followed his hand like the grace of the plague following a single infected rat. His face was right in hers, keeping her attention from wandering too far as it often did, and his dark, angry eyes glared down at her as he pulled her off the wall and slammed her back again, rattling her head, "You forget so easily that he was my friend first. He was always meant to be my plaything, not yours Clary, and I am not about to give him up to you, regardless of either of your feelings. "

Breaking free, the girl pushed him away and broke past the wall of ivy, her hands tight in balled fists. She would have taken a swing had she thought it might do her any good, but instinct told her it would be futile.

Once outside, she caught sight of a dark haired girl standing on a rattan swing hanging beneath a tree but no sight of Jace. He must have taken his opportunity to flee to safety, much like she would now. Hastening her pace, she heard her brother call to her, but didn't stop to acknowledge him as she bolted for the house before he changed his mind about letting her go.

"You are both mine, Clary. Don't you dare forget that!"

_**XOX**_

"Clary!"

She hesitated for a moment, her head minutely twitching to the side as if she were about to turn and face her pursuer, before she doubled her speedy pace, forcing the once human boy to pick up speeds in hopes that he could reach her before she shut out the world. At least she seemed to have heard him this time, which was a start. That way, he could call her on it when he actually did catch her; now, or later if she managed to out run him, it wouldn't matter because she had responded and he knew she heard him. She was avoiding him. It seemed she was closing everyone off these days, whether in her own world or locked up in her room with her sketchbooks.

Turning the corner, she didn't even see him coming up behind her and gave a shrill noise when he wrapped his hand around the crook in her arm and spun her back around and pressed her back against the door in a single motion that almost got him decked.

In mid spin, she used the momentum to bring her right arm up and swung blindly for where she assumed the man that had grabbed her would have their face. She was growing so damn tired of being a plaything to her brother. What right did he have sauntering around the house and dragging people around whenever he pleased?

Her fist stopped only a millisecond away from his and she froze like a deer in the headlights, her large green eyes wide and bright as she let her hand drop limply to her side before falling against the cherry wood door behind her and slunk down the slab like she was melting between him and her nearly successful escape exit.

She had been so close too. Just a few more seconds and she would have found herself safely in her own room, a few more and in bed. Her eyes fluttered shut and she slammed her head back into the door, restlessly and annoyed. Why couldn't these people just leave her alone? Was it really that difficult to leave her be for a few moments of peace and quiet? All she wanted was to crawl under the covers and hide away. Why-

Why was Simon just staring at her?

Leaning against the door frame, Simon tilted his head against the forearm that made contact with the cool trim along the door and his hand splayed right above her head. She was effectively trapped now and from this close, he could see that she was near tears or had been crying only a few moments prior. She looked weary as well, bone weak, and if she had actually had hit him, the worst she would have done was some mild bruising. His eyes darted this way and that, calculating possibilities of what had upset her this time, but even he could see now a line of bruises that were blossoming along the crook where he had just grabbed her. A sad smile passed over his lips as he tried to console her with just his presence, and his hand came up to run gently along the stitch of her dress's bodice along her spine.

She didn't have time for this. Simon's problems in life were afterthoughts of her own, and what she dealt with now was so much bigger than anything else she had to. Her parabatai ceremony was closing in now, and while it hadn't been heavily on her mind before, it was now. She had let her father sweep her up in the romanticism of being tied, of having that other pure half to fall back on that she hadn't spoken up at all when they shoved her and Izzy together, even if it made sense for them to have chosen each other; Isabelle was her sister and friend, comrade and eldest confidant. She trusted the girl with her life, and they would always be close, but not close enough for Clary to call her the other half of her soul.

The stress of the next hurdle in her life was only the tip of the iceberg. Her heart was swelling with excitement and turmoil and worry and joy, and everything in her coiled so tightly and collided so hard with each other that she thought she might burst, like the butterflies in her stomach had been strapped down with fireworks. This was the most horribly wonderful news she had ever received in her life. Jace _**loved**_ her. It hadn't been said, not in so many words, but he was at least infatuated with her, and she worried for him now. Her brother was very possessive over his people, and even sharing them among his family didn't seem too likely.

For everything wrong in her life, something equally good stood at its side, but every decision she made seemed to bite the people she loved in the ass. Silently, she tried to pull away from the tall boy leaning in front of her. For him, at least, she could pull away and reduce his heart ache. She could save him from the pain that would be dealt to him in time for allying himself to her. "Just let me go SI-"

"No."

Looking up at him, her eyelashes fluttered. "What?"

"I said no." Pushing off the door frame, he loomed over her, half bent as he pulled away from her and shoved his hands angrily into his pockets, "You don't get the option of telling me to leave off every time you have a spat with someone else, and you especially don't get away with trying to knock my teeth in without an explanation."

Exasperated, she pushed off of the door, coming to stand threateningly on her tiptoes. It was sort of cute, Simon thought, that she imagined herself to be at all threatening. She pressed upward as far as she could stand in her heels, and only came to glare up at him about a foot too short to be reasonably worrisome for him, "I wasn't trying to knock your teeth in!"

The girl wobbled, and the brown- eyed boy steadied her with a strong arm strategically placed at her hip, shooting down any and all validity of her vehemence.

"So is that how were greeting each other now? Did I miss the memo?" Raising his arm in a mocking sort of motion, a maid passing in the hallway made her presence known with a disapproving noise that escaped from deep within her chest; if she had any say over him, Clary was sure the elder woman would have scurried over here to tell Simon what was what, but as it were, the woman just scurried off spinelessly, shaking her head. Probably too good too, because she would have been severely punished if Jonathan had come up here then and found anyone but his family in their wing of the house. Never mind how his bed showed up neat and tidy every time he returned to it without ever lifting a single finger to make it, that had to be magic.

Shaking her head, she pressed back into the door, even more exhausted than before as she came to terms that she had to get rid of her friend fast on top of dealing with whatever his problem was right now. "What do you _**want **_Simon?"

"What do you really want for your birthday, Clary?" Simon found himself asking her softly. It wasn't important, and not why he had come and tracked her down, but he needed to defuse the tension floating between them. Her eyes creased and she tilted her head in confusion. Obviously he was not the only one surprised by the question. His unoccupied hand caught her elbow, and the pressure made her pause. It slid down the length to her wrist and he turned her tiny, delicate hand in his so that their fingers could interlock loosely. Her green eyes followed his hand and when he linked his digits with hers, she tightened them, locking them together as she fixated on how it felt to hold his hand.

Jonathan's was always scorching to the touch, and Jace's she found was reasonable warm to the point of comforting. Simon had never held her hand before, but now that he had, the sense of ease had washed over her, like nothing else would matter at least for this moment, and she didn't want to let him go. His pulse lulled hers down from its erratic tempo, and her palm cooled to his slighter temperature as she eased into the calmness he exuded.

His thumb played softly along the back of her middle finger where she had worn the Morgenstern ring heavily, the only movement besides their heartbeats between them. "I don't buy that shit that you want some shiny ring or a pretty dress, not in the slightest. You're _**nowhere **_near _**that**_ vain. So what is it Clary? I don't have much, but I will do everything in my power to make it happen for you. You _**know**_ that…"

Simon watched her silently, feeling like they had lived this moment a million times before. Clary was always the light in the darkness and he had depended on that strength and illuminating character to help him through on a daily basis. But she was so weak now, like a flickering candle flame, so near going out by the weakest of winds. She floundered for a moment, and after a few long moments of perturbed silence, let go of the door handle behind her that she had initially intended to disappear behind, and fell against it as she drew the boy closer to her in a single armed hug that left her face buried in his chest, and Simon awkwardly looming before her. His other hand came up to warmly cup her jaw and her face raised at last to look at him again; the brown eyes that met hers were searching and pleading, and the most comforting thing she had known since her mother's arms. Her eyes went from his warm ones to the hallway around them, thinking on what it appeared they were doing. Anyone that might have passed in the hall now would talk, oh how they would talk. This looked absolutely scandalous, even more so then being found by her brother with their adopted brother; this boy was practically her servant. "Please Si, come inside. This isn't-"

"Tell me here, it's not like it's-"

"Simon-"

"Clary! Just tell me, what is it?"

The girl's lips pursed tightly and she drew her bottom lip in and worried it with her teeth. It came down to dissatisfaction; she had always had everything she wanted and more in the way of materialistic things, but in the end she valued her relationships above all else. It was one of many things that brought the two of them together. She loved Simon as she loved Isabelle and Alec, Jonathan and Jace, and perhaps even her father whom she had once held above all others. What she desired could not be simply gifted to her, and her best friend understood that, stood by that. But this was a very special day in her life, and as her closest friend, she understood his need to mark the occasion; he had been dismissed from attending her dance despite any stand on the matter she gave, he had lost her after breakfast to her oaf of a brother who simply made things worse, to Isabelle when she fled from Jonathan and her home, and again when she had left the party to Jace. It occurred to her that the only opinion she had ever asked any of them was trivially small things.

But Simon she had shared everything with. He was her best friend. Tilting her head to the side she watched him, amazed as the worry blossomed across his face. She knew now what he would be to her, even if he hadn't the foggiest, and her hand involuntarily tightened again and the arm slung around his waist drew her all the more closer so that they stood almost melded together.

"_**Be my parabatai."**_

It was so soft, almost a purr really, that the boy almost thought he had heard things. Looking at her, however, he knew for certain that she had spoken and the way she watched him coyly from behind half lidded eyes he also could wager that this was the first honest thing, probably the first selfish thing she had desired and she had ever outright asked for. He made her selfish. The thought was humbling enough to floor him for several moments and she pulled her hand from his and pulled away from his chest to wrap her arms around her waist. She probably thought he already rejected her.

"Traditionally, shouldn't you be on your knee when you ask for my hand?" Simon couldn't help it, and the girl looked at him incredulously.

She backhanded his shoulder, knowing what he played at. He could only smile, and it was infectious as it spread like wildfire, igniting her entire face. Maybe she _**was**_ serious.

"What about Izzy?" he found himself questioning, his thoughts turning to the voluptuous diva that had lived her life striving towards what Clary now offered him so willingly. He doubted the girl had thought about her female friend's feelings, and though he and Isabelle didn't see eye to eye where the girl was involved, they were still close, if not for Clary's happiness.

"What about her?"

If not for Clary, he doubted she would have ever gave him the time of day, but it was just how girls like her were- total bitches that were so self- absorbed that they couldn't even tell that the people she surrounded herself with looked to her facetiously.

But really, he did care what she felt in the long run. They were intertwined somehow, and they wouldn't be apart. Their lives had collided for good, he was sure of it. "It just doesn't seem fair to her, does it? She's been living her entire life to be the best match for you, and here at just shy of a month you go and give someone else what she's dreamed of all her life."

"You asked me what _**I**_ wanted, Simon. That was the honest answer_**. I want you to be my Parabatai.**_ Either you want it too, and we seal this right now, or you walk away." She nudged the door open and stepped backward with a wide, bouncing step. Her stance was a bit flirtatious but not in a lewd way, and she leaned into the room, her hips swaying as if she was contemplating his options for him. She challenged him silently, making him step up the game and take her on head first. "Please Si, don't over think this."

As if he had any other choice but to follow her blindly, like the lost little lamb that he was. Stepping over the threshold, his eyes raked up her tiny form, from the wrinkled gown, up to the arms she clasped across her chest, to the blossoming breasts that nearly spilled from her tight bodice and finally to the wicked little grin she smirked at him with, claiming her victory as her head tilted off to the side.

The girl went past him to her beside before turning and circled around him once slowly like a predator, and he did his best to keep his gaze trained on her as she swept around him. Her hand caught his right one and forced her stele into it. Confused, he watched her as she let his hand go expectantly.

"_**Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee. For whither thou goest, I will go, and where thou lodgest, I will lodge-" **_

"Clary _**stop**_ that. Once you say it, the oath is final-"

She shook her head and grabbed hold of his right hand again, and Simon realized she had meant to block his only exit the whole time. With a single short tug, the stele was just south of the crease of her elbow, swirling upward before he could stop it, and her skilled hand had half the rune carved before he knew what was going on, playing him like a puppet with her expertly taught hand.

"Thy people shall be my people, and thy _**God my God**_. Where thou _**diest, will I die**_, and there will I be buried. The Angel, do so to me and more also, if _**aught but death**_ part thee and me."

Her grasp tightened on his wrist, her breath baited as she gasped out the last of the ritual, and she forced his hand to finish its mark, much deeper than he would have done it on his own as he began to struggle against her and Clary's wide eyes fluttered shut when it was at last done, pulling her arm back to her side anxiously.

Simon seemed furious, but not all of it was directed at her. Good, she would gladly take his upset and everyone else's fury as well if it meant they belonged to each other.

"Clary you have _**no idea**_ what _**you've just done**_." Simon admonished, taking a step back. He knew her, inside and out, loved even the darkest part of her, but he didn't understand this desperation, this suddenness. His hand hung limply at his side and he could feel his entire body shaking. They could both be punished for this, the probability leaning away from definite only because of who she was the daughter of. "These bonds are meant to be performed before the Clave, the sanctity of our elders and our people, _**we have no right**_-"

"You're right." She held up her hand, silencing him. She knew what he would say before he said it. "But it has not always been this way. The first bonds were made by the melding of souls, and you are my other half Simon Lewis."

He didn't appear to be getting it. His hesitation bothered her minutely, but she understood it. She was who she was, the daughter of their leader, and master of his household, and Simon was who he was. He had only survived so far because of his ability to think straight, to find the best way out and for her fealty to protect him and keep him safe. In the wilderness or here that fact was very much the same.

"_**And it came to pass... that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul... Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved him as his own soul." **_ Clary whispered, her eyes falling shut. She needn't site history on him, but it made her point quite clear as her fingers ran down the front of her bodice, unclipping each of the toggles. They clicked open with a soft snapping noise and it drew the brown eyed boys attention from her full red lips to her exposed, pale skin.

"_**And there has never been anyone for me, but you Simon." **_Her long fingers traced over the most permanent of marks caste over her flesh, the first of many he would ever inscribe on her. "Your soul is my soul and your flesh is my flesh. From now until the end of eternity, mark or no mark, my oath will ring true. There will be no one for me but you, Simon. Don't feel pressured into this Si. Between the two of us you always were the more level headed. You should take the time you need to come to terms with this."

The girl leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to his cheek, and Simon leaned into it, wishing beyond hope that for once in his life that it meant more than it actually did. Clary drew away almost as quickly as she had come near, and adverted her gaze as she backed away.

"I'm going to bed now, but feel free to join me," turning, she began stripping each and every layer off of her dress as she walked until all that remained was her undergarments- a strapless, black slip with a lacy frill along the top and he could only assume panties beneath that.

She paused and looked upward as she pulled out the long- worked on hairstyle, and spun the curls as she released them as she thoughtfully wondered on the likelihood that he would join her. It was up for grabs at the moment, but she wouldn't be going to bed alone for sure; one of the three boys would be sure to crawl in after her. As an afterthought, she looked back and made him very aware that reality, "Before someone else does."

Simon watched her as she crawled under the covers to lay on her right side, careful of the new mark that stood out starkly on her pale flesh and the dark sheets, still in her ebony slip and undergarments, and exhaustively he considered leaving. Without a matching mark, he could be Scott- free.

But somehow that didn't sit well with the boy. Her oath was binding and permanent. Now that his mark was on her and she had spoken her oath there was little that could be done unless he destroyed the mark, which though an option, was not one he wanted to consider. The promise was honest, and he found himself agreeing with it selfishly. He wanted this, more than anything else, even returning home to see his family back in New York to find them healthy and well.

Looking to the stele in his hand, Simon made his way back to the bed. She was out like a light already, her face at ease and her hair gently lying around her.

There was very little room for him facing her, so he took the spot behind her, spooning her awkwardly from behind as he fumbled the stele back into her hand and tried not to otherwise disturb her. She did not wake happily once she was down, and mark or no mark he had no doubt that she would end him.

He would tell her in the morning that he agreed, and he would let her mark him as her own

Gently, he tugged her hair from her delicate ear and his face came to rest right at her lobe, and the warm breath panted over her cheeks to flutter her eyelashes delicately. "Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee. For wherever thou goest, I have gone, and where thou lodgest, I have lodged. Thy people have been my people, and thy _**God is my God**_. Where thou _**diest, will I die**_, and there will I be buried. By the Angel, do so to me and more also, if _**aught but death**_ part thee and me."

A sharp pain in his wrist made him give out a weak noise, and the boy raised it from her waist to inspect it; a comparably similar mark as the one on her arm adorned the soft flesh at the base of his forearm and blood trickled from one of the edges as if cut too deeply. Shifting up, he glanced at the girl in bed with him, to the content smile she wore.

"You-"

"Weren't asleep? Really now Si, you ought to know by now I prefer staying up all night. I was giving you time. I didn't expect you to go throwing yourself at me the moment I went to bed."

"Trust me, your virtue is very much still intact." Playfully, he fell back to the mattress, curling closer around her, as Simon gently touched the matching mark that now glared up at him on the inside of her delicate elbow. The heated skin seemed to soothe at the connection and a soft groan escaped her, as she pressed herself backward into his chest and nuzzled the pillows with a small sigh. Sleep was ebbing at the corners of his cognitive thoughts, and a startling thought shook him from drifting all the way off, warm and cozy in the plush bed. His voice came out strained and rough, a quiet grumble that shook her lightly, "You chose me."

The realization finally dawned on him, and he was suddenly wide awake despite the long day he had been a part of.

"Go to _**bed Simon**_."

He obeyed, simply to give the impression that she still had the upper hand. Closing his eyes, he let the knowledge that he had won her favor over that of Isabelle Lightwood, monster- killing and fashionista extraordinaire. He'd hold that over her later, once he knew he was out of the woods on this matter.

They fell asleep, curled against one another, for once pleasantly content and at ease, despite the boisterous sounds of the party downstairs in the hall, and the thousands of people milling about their home, taking in everything but seeing absolutely nothing.

_**XOX**_

Silently the troop funneled in through the hall window. They moved in synchrony, the three men and a slight woman with curled, wispy black hair cropped jaggedly around her face and shoulders. She gestured, her hands making a movement that directed that they ought to go down the hall to the right, signaling each move they would make, and they broke from the wall, blending into the shadows that the abandoned hall gave.

With a delicate move, a blade slid along the lock and the barrel gave way.

They were in and out within minutes with their collected abductees situated against the largest among them, the slight, bound forms of the children slew over one shoulder and tucked beneath his armpit.

Indeed, no one would guess what had happened here.

On the way out, the woman tapped her hand against a canister, spreading a dried powder behind them, smearing the door handle as well as their paths.

With that, they leapt each in turn from the open window, taking off towards the woods from which they had come. By time anyone realized what happened they would be out of reach.

_**XOX**_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**I would be lying if I said I was sorry for the length.**_

_**I'm not, but I did try to shave down a few thousand words between Aline and Jonathan's walk to the pavilion, another adventure to Valentines office and a bit of the party.**_

_**Even still, this was deliciously wonderful to write.**_

_**I want to also apologize that these past 2 chapters weren't as timely as my normal ones. Aside from just being busy, I also have to admit that I've been writing waaaay ahead of myself, simply because I really wanted to get to that part. If I could, I would portal you all to that chapter, so you can all share the good vibes from it, but alas, it's no good. I can't teleport you there yet, because way too much needs to happen before its time.**_

_**It also took me too long to write up the interactions with Simon and Clary, but it wasn't lack of inspiration. There were three different scenarios that I wrote about 2k of, just to get a feel of where they could go, and this one won out. It just opened up a whole bunch of plot possibilities, and I feel that it shows what kind of position Clary was put into, that she would rather force herself to have no Parabatai at all then to be forced together with Isabelle. **_

_**In no way am I saying Isabelle isn't/ wasn't worthy of that position. She's just not the Soul Mate for Clary. Simon has that written all over his cute little Jewish Face. **_

_**On a side note, for those curious, one of Christopher Wayland's faults is that he's too honest, almost shoving truth down his own throat and others, whereas Isabelle is not, in fact I think she's very good at half- truths and outright lies. Just something to keep in mind for the future.**_

_**I hope there's no one too upset that I changed the Parabatai Oath on Simon's side. I just felt like it would either be said together in the ritual, or in turns. Possibly changed, like I had done. With Clary forcing their hands, it left it to the last choice, and as I read the Oath at first, I thought the resounding response was better. "Your people have been my people, and thy God is my God" seemed to double in meaning from Simon as well; he lost his family, his home, everything, when Maryse and Valentine's army took him from New York, and now pretty much everything of Clary's has become his. He owns nothing, but her now. Maybe it's just me; I just preferred it this way.**_

_** Didi: Thanks for reading! And Buon giorno! Honestly I like the lack of recognition between Jace and Clary. It comes down to the fact that he's just starting to hit puberty, as is she, and they will continue to start recognizing and affirming that they are attracted to each other. Jonathan is ignoring her because he's found himself a scapegoat for his use instead of his sister, and is trying his best to be a good brother as well as maintaining the idealistic image that he's in control of himself and there's nothing wrong with him, which there is. But Clary's about to get her own little adventure, just you wait!**_

** Lauren: It's not necessarily that Jonathan has done anything in particular to Isabelle, but their natures match and swing away from each other pretty erratically with how Isabelle is feeling. In particular, this moment of misconnection came from a mixture of things, one Jonathan using her, which she initially approved of because of the connection they had at breakfast, and the fact that he gives her no second thought, throwing every energy and affection at his sister. For her, she thought she had struck a chord with him, piqued his interest, and then nothing. But he runs out and spends a fortune on his sister for a single- time worn dress? It would piss any woman off Isabelle just happens to be more volatile.**

**I also had intended for Jace to outright ask for Clary, but I felt like he ought to be spineless. Being raised beside Jonathan and Clary with Valentine as his only parental figure, I feel like he would lack that strong of a charisma with people, and especially the ability to just outright say things that would probably get him locked up in jail. He wants Clary, but survival is Key. You can always just wait for the old man to croak and kill off the competition later. So to speak. No worries, however. Jace will get several more chances in the future.**

**I also want to thank you for sticking with me from the get go. I know personally how hard it is to start up with a new story, AND always be there to give support and love to every chapter, so again, thank you so much Lauren.**

**Love also goes out to Inalim, and my2guys who have reviewed multiple times.**

**All of my reviewers rock! **

**If you like it Review, Fave, Follow.**

**So much love to my readers.**

**Till Next Time**

**TAORI**


	8. How Do I Love Someone?

_**Momma never told me how to love**__**  
**__**Daddy never told me how to feel**__**  
**__**Momma never told me how to touch**__**  
**__**Daddy never showed me how to heal**_

_**Momma never set a good example**__**  
**__**Daddy never held momma's hand**__**  
**__**Momma found everything hard to handle**__**  
**__**Daddy never stood up like a man**_

_**I've walked alone, broken**__**  
**__**Emotionally frozen**__**  
**__**Getting it on**__**  
**__**Getting it wrong**_

_**How do you love someone**__**  
**__**Without getting hurt**__**  
**__**How do you love someone**__**  
**__**Without crawling in the dirt**_

_**So far in my life**__**  
**__**Clouds have blocked the sun**__**  
**__**How do you love, how do you love someone**__**  
**__**How do you love, how do you love someone**_

_**I was always the chosen child**__**  
**__**The biggest scandal I became**__**  
**__**They told me I'd never survive**__**  
**__**But survival's my middle name**_

_**I have never considered myself a lucky woman. Everything I have received in my life, I have had to work hard for and justly earn, and despite the hierarchy I was born into, I always dove head first into my own personal progression. I never wanted to have anything pushed on me, and so I struggled to be worthy and earn everything I received. I supposed that that was what first had attracted my husband to me. **_

_**My parents had raised me to be a good girl, to uphold morals and be true to the Clave. It was something I tried to instill in you, in Jonathan and Jace, Clary, even if I dropped the ball early on you. I was told that all life was worthwhile, and that it should be taken away with great mourning. **_Even Demons had a reason for being in their world_**, your grandparents reasoned with everything they had, to anyone that would listen with unheard clearness that didn't seem to reach the masses at all, and I strived to protect and defuse, not destroy.**_

_**That was, of course, until I met Valentine. **_

_**The boy spoke so surely of the injustice they suffered living among Down- worlders, and unlike my parents, he had a charisma that seemed to take hold of people, to turn their ears whether they were willing to listen or not.**_

_**Everyone heard him. Everyone believed.**_

_**In him. In his cause. In his words.**_

_**I couldn't help but believe him as well, and though I personally never acted on the changes his words wrought in me, many did. Few in school avoided him, claiming that he was wickedly hateful and his methods would only end in disaster. Among them, was my one of my closest friends Madeleine Bellefleur, who did her best to dissuade me from following the pretty face she was sure covered pure evil.**_

_**When he had first approached me, however, I could only swoon over the thought that I had piqued his interest. Now, I understood otherwise. Now, I wish that I could have listened to the good advice those few people like Madeleine had given me freely, or perhaps give a spot of my own to my younger self. Perhaps that would have saved our family such heart ache.**_

_**We married early in our relationship, to my parents' dismay, and your father moved into their home immediately. I supposed that it was to be expected at the time; my boyfriend and then husband had been orphaned when his father had been killed by a werewolf pack and his mother committed suicide soon after, a fact that they had tried very hard to keep hushed up. With no home to call his own, my parents would not have left the boy to the streets, not when money was so plentiful. Your grandfather had followed in the steps of his forefathers before him and took up the Consul position, a role that brought him great joy, and he was lawfully good, just as all the Fairchild's were. **_

We are born _**good**_, Clary, baptized at birth, and our family strives to remain pure.

_**I weep over the sinfully evil child I bore, the good boy I lost before I could ever hold.**_

_**Everything Jocelyn Morgenstern ever received in life, she had to work for. The loss of my children was no different. I tried to love both of them, the monster and my dead baby that lay behind his eyes, but it was no use. I knew he was not my child, no matter how hard I tried.**_

I scorn the very name Morgenstern; I remain a Fairchild now to this day.

Like the namesake, the entire lot are wicked, spiteful creatures.

_**I saw what kind of person your father had become, how every day the boy I loved with all my heart deteriorated and the obsessive man that desperately clung to his unjust hatred took his place. I still love your father, but the man that has replaced him I do not.**_

_**He has done too much, too many unforgivable things.**_

_**He walked Lucian, his parabatai and our closest friend to his death in the woods and when he returned to us alive but a lycanthrope, was told to commit suicide, a fact that had been presented to me much differently, only because I carried our first child and your father feared that a blunt truth might shake me too much. **_

_**This, too, I wish I had seen the signs.**_

_**Instead, I stayed at my husband's side, mourning the loss of my dearest friend. It wasn't until I had stumbled upon your father's darkest little secret in the basement that I understood anything.**_

_**He had managed to tie an angel to the earth, one whom had been sent to smite him. It was an evil deed to taint one of Raziel's children, and for that, I'm sure Ithuriel would have smote him where he stood. Heaven was surely wrathful, and perhaps if he had succeeded in cutting down your father he would have been able to finish the deed that I could not.**_

_**Valentine was prepared however. Like in Milton's '**__**Paradise Lost' **__**the lesser Seraph found your father with a woman lending him her ear, but it was no one as innocent as Eve, but rather the first wife. He had earned the favor of Lilith by giving her a child of her own, albeit one that was born by me, but with her blood in his veins it was enough. She lent him the knowledge of how to trap and keep her former brethren, and the outcome did not end well for the poor angel.**_

_**I found him there, shortly after Jonathan was born. He cried a song of agony, and tried to reach out for me, to feel a tender hand in his otherwise cruel existence. If I could have, I would have killed him then. It would have been merciful, and his wish. It was the least I could have done, knowing that the madman that kept him bound was so intimately tied to me. He terrified me, and for nearly a month I succeeded in pretending that he had not existed. But nightly he cried out, so like I had imagined my unborn baby would do, and I could do nothing but listen to it tear me out on the inside.**_

_**Instead, he remained there, with occasional visits from your father, and stolen moments with me, when I would tell him of the world beyond, of the children borne of his kin and the goodness of it all. I had to give him hope if nothing else. Not everything was lost to him.**_

_**In turn he told me of you, and the blood in you sang out to him. **_

_**He gave me dreams of a beautiful little girl that would burn out the darkness of my first child. She was everything I wanted, everything I dreamed of, and she would be mine. I just had to have her first**_

_**I knew before he told me of the journals what you were, and I vowed to see you safe. Valentine and his monster would not harm you if I could help it. You were an accident, Valentine's gravest mistake, but he would not steal a second child from me. I would not allow it.**_

_**My love, my light. You were my everything.**_

_**Just as Ithuriel had so named you, you were my brightest star.**_

_**It killed me to have left you behind, but I could not take you, not then. You would not have been safe with me.**_

_**Even now, I worry I can do little to protect you and your brother.**_

_**XOX**_

Johnathan felt alive, perhaps more vibrant than he ever had, actually. After the run in with his sister and his pet, he had thought the night was shot. The dark- eyed girl, however, had other plans. They had wandered, aimlessly, telling harmless tales that neither thought said too much about themselves but in reality, spoke much more. What they said, what they chose not to reveal, echoed deeply in each, and without saying it, they understood what was not said. It was hours before the girl felt she had revealed too much and fell silent and took a detour. She dragged him towards the winding plains and invoked a hunting game that he felt he was very much outmatched at. She was obviously a much better hunter, having raised herself in the wilderness, and she had strategizing down to a t because of her lifestyle as well. His pulse thrummed beneath his skin, vibrating with the electricity running along his veins. His mouth was parched but he couldn't care less, and found himself bounding faster after the girl who egged him on.

"Oh come on already. You can't possibly be that slow!"

She was fast, faster than even he could remember seeing anyone being, and he hoped she would lose this whirlwind of energy so he might have a chance of catching up. How he hated losing.

Turning, she hesitated as she took a step back, her head quizzically falling to the side. Her half- knotted hair fell over her face mildly comically, and would have endeared her to him he had no doubt had they been anyone else. "_**You are?**_ Why didn't you ask me to slow down? How am I to know how fast Shadow hunters are that have never had to run for their lives?"

Instead of an answer, he stayed mute as he passed her by. He didn't need her to insult him, he had his father for that. She fell easily in line and her hand sought out his, linking together to try to keep him close and not of any affection for the boy. She pressed herself close to him, and her shorter head fell against his shoulder sharply, like she was trying to melt against him

Glancing down at the fingers that linked around his that fell right against her hip, Jonathan compared the tiny, cool hand that held his to his sister's warm one, like her blood could boil away the wickedness inside of him. He didn't dislike Aline's hand, but it was unfamiliar and uncomforting, almost controlling in the way it maneuvered in his.

His gaze must have given her the wrong idea. It lingered too long, and the girl drew herself closer to him yet, and they paused beneath the canopy of the trees at the outskirts of the Brocilind Plains. The moon caught in her depth- less shadows of her eyes, illuminating the starkness between her sclera and iris and the light played with the shadows of her face, striking her like the lovelorn child she was. Her hands tentatively captured his face neatly, her thumbs stroking along his chin as she drew up, pressing her thick lips to his, and for a moment he almost forgot who was innocently kissing him, as the girl's fingers curled at the base of his neck.

He let her kiss him, let her try her best to win him over, but it was a battle that she was slated to lose.

She was not Clary. He had to remind himself of that. She couldn't be expected to be anything like her, rather her opposite. He knew that Aline was born with the same blood as he; it's why he needed to know her. But he had never expected to be tied to her, to grow together. His motives had nothing to do with reproduction and romance and love. His needs stemmed from the loneliness of being the only creature on earth like him, with no one to truly understand him.

He loved his sister. From head to toe, from hard glare to every stolen glance, she was everything he wanted, everything he needed. He kept his distance to save her the heartache. He loved her that much.

Shoving the girl off of him, he could feel the upset in her form as she forcefully let him go, reaching up to touch her mouth.

"I have to go."

Aline looked at him hurt, confusion creasing her face as she tried to make amends with her body and tried to draw him into her arms. She thought she had done something wrong. But hadn't she? How dare she try to move in on him? Didn't she understand that human hearts were possessive, and his already held on to another?

"I'm sorry I have to split. We're expected to be very punctual for meals. As it is I'm a quarter late."

The girl just did not understand. As he went to move away, she chased after. Reaching into his pocket, the white haired boy retrieved his pocket watch and held it out to her.

"Time- it's how we mark aging and the days passing by. Those hands go around twice a day, once for daylight, and the other night. At this hand, and that one above it, I have a meal with my family. I have to be there, it's expected of me."

"Why would you allow such a thing such power over you?" Her face skewed up and as he left she tried to follow, "Surely it cannot make you happy. It appears to be such a hindrance."

"Because were expected to be meticulous. It's what separates us from the beasts we hunt. You were never taught that, though, were you?" Scoffing at her, he laughed as he turned, leaving the watch in her hands. "Meet me at the third quarter, the second time it passes, here."

Softly, she nodded in agreement, before simply falling to the ground where he indicated.

At least she would still be there later.

_**XOX**_

_**When you were naught but a child, you knew nothing of good and evil. You understood blood was blood, and for that it made you a better person than I. But still you cried, oh how you cried, but you made no attempt to stop him.**_

The toddler turned, smiling wickedly as his little hand swiped the blood around his lips into his open mouth. His eyes were brighter than they once had been and he seemed wickedly pleased with himself. He bit down on her a second time, and the little girl simply whimpered in response, pushing back on the larger body on top of her and holding it close at the same time.

_**I pulled you from him. What else could I do? I could not let him take advantage of you, could not let him break you.**_

_**That was the first of many times I broke the two of you up, but you seemed to be content in being defiled, in receiving his perverse love.**_

"You mustn't rile your brother Clary." Jocelyn reprimanded softly as her hands smoothed her daughter's soft hair. Unlike her own, Clary's hair was wavy rather than taught curls that she had, perhaps the only trait she had gotten from Valentine, the softness like silk that shone brightly. Everything else about her sang of her mother's delicate grace, making her a near younger replica of herself. Even her temper and fiery nature called Jocelyn's attention to their likeness. The temper however was doubly a tribute from both parents and as such, her mother knew that nothing good could come of her being so wound up.

_**Knowing as I did what my son was, what you were, I tried my best to keep you apart, to raise you as two separate projects, but had always known that Johnathan was nothing but a monster **__**and**__** could have no hope but pray that you lived through every upstart the two of you might had.**_

_**XOX**_

_**The miracle came that your father had never witnessed the rampaging fights between you two, the viciousness that sent me running in the night for anyone that could help. **_

One night, on Clary's sixth birthday, was especially horrid. Jonathan had grabbed hold of her and had dragged her much smaller body beneath him. As he choked her, the girl had begun crying, which spurred him on to tighten his fists over her tiny neck and nothing could pull him off of her. One of the maids had tried, desperately, only to find that his hands were like iron fast to the column beneath her chin. Once she was about to black out, something overtook her and she touched her brother's forehead with an outstretched palm. The boy swooned as soon as she touched him, and black blood spewed from his lips as he coughed harshly.

Jocelyn had witnessed it all as she rushed in to wrench the two children apart. Clary had stood, crying as her brother continued to wretch out the putrid blood that beat through his veins.

Clary had been beside herself with worry. The whole idea of it seemed absurd. Her brother had nearly killed her, and yet she was worried for his safety, if he would be all right.

Perhaps there was something human in him after all.

And her daughter was the only one to see it.

_**XOX**_

_**Your love never did know its bounds either. You were convinced, Clary, that he was the only love you would ever have. I hope that's not the case. I hope you grew up and knew real love and returned it. **_

_**Jonathan mutilated the emotion in you so early I fear that it might corrupt all of your relationships, and perhaps that is my fault as much as your fathers.**_

"Jonathan says I can marry him when we get older. We can be like you and daddy." The young girl pulled up the dress she had found, pressing it to her tiny waistline. She seemed so happy by the idea, and as she hugged the soft fabric to her abdomen, Jocelyn could see the brightness of her pleasure blossoming across her face, illuminating her youthful face.

Mortified, Jocelyn rounded on her daughter, snatching her golden wedding dress from the child's grasp. She could see the upset as she did it, but she needed to put her daughter in her place before this went too far, "You will do no such thing!"

Children often dressed up in their parents' clothes, so it wasn't that she had delved into her wardrobe. No, it was that her beloved child spoke of binding herself to that… _**thing.**_

Hushing the girl. Jocelyn pulled her into her arms as the girl began to shake, sobs racking through her as she choked on her cries.

_**You were a child born to love. We had no place keeping you from other children.**_

_**It is my own blame if I find you at all unhappy in the end.**_

_**XOX**_

Jonathan could have sworn at himself. True, he had been mad at Clary the night before, but he'd been madder at Jace and had taken it out on his younger sister. He had not expected her to retaliate and lock her window, however, which they both knew she kept open so he could just slip outside the balcony and into her room whenever he pleased.

His was locked too, which meant that she had purposefully went out of her way to keep him out, or Jace had acted out on his own.

Fine. He'd punish them both for it later.

And so the boy was left with the way he had left last night. Sure enough, the door was unlocked as it too always way, and he walked in expecting an eerie calm to have settled in the hallway, as servants scurried about to avoid him.

The door swung open to expose chaos. There were masses running everywhere, true, but not from him. They were scouring the entire house, searching for something desperately.

Stepping in among the masses, the boy felt oddly discomforted by their lack of acknowledgement. He had not intended on spending the entire night out, but it had happened. Surely someone should have noticed, if not ratted him out.

Moving with the group, he joined in, curious as to what they looked for, completely unaware of a shadow that fell upon his back. The maids moved to the kitchen, running their fingers on the window lines and inspecting them each to find nothing to be found. Others ran in and out of rooms testing the door handles, the windows there.

It was as if they were looking for anything and everything that someone could have touched.

Passing the staircase to go upstairs, he saw even more covering the staircase, leaving no inch un- turned.

What were they looking for, ants? Roaches? Rodents?

A noise behind him instantly sent him into a still panic, and he froze, waiting for the inevitable.

He'd been caught red handed sneaking around the house.

"Johnathan Christopher Morgenstern," the brutish baritone of his father snarled, involuntarily making the boy flinch away from the dining room. Whenever his father was displeased, the boy could swear that he felt a chill in the air and the hair on the back of his neck raised on end; though he was sure it could only be accounted for his own jittery nerves, he couldn't dismiss that his father's rage did not account for anything. He knew well to fear his father, and each time his wrath emerged he justified his son's reaction, _**"Where**_ have you_** been?"**_

_**XOX**_

_**(Current Day)**_

"Sometimes, you have no choice"

"I did everything in my power-"

"I did not meant to-"

Thoughts of amends lived and died on her tongue. How could she ask forgiveness from her children when she knew she came nowhere near deserving it? She could tell them each their life story from birth to desertion and it would not be enough for them to understand. She remembered everything, and clung to her memories at night, because they justified her reasons for leaving. She had to have written thousands of letters to each of them, apologizing. They were all burned away, after all, what right did she have to ask for anything? She had left them behind, abandoning them to their madman of a father.

Not that Valentine didn't love his children. Well, at the very least he adored Clary, his dear golden child. Jonathan and Jace had been entirely on purpose, and while Jocelyn didn't doubt that the mistake in destroying his own son to further his own theories, his own goals, would haunt her husband till the end of days, she also knew that he would not hesitate in making the mistake again.

After destroying his first born, he had been remorseful. Somehow, she knew it in the deepest depths of her heart that her husband felt the loss of never knowing their son as she had, and he would never have slipped angel blood into her meals had he known that she was pregnant, just in the off chance that adverse effects would take root in their second child.

Where her son had been born too wicked, Jace had been too naive and soft, not bad qualities to have, but not what Valentine had hoped for. Clary on the other hand, seemed to have all of the good in Nephilim and all of the strengths in Angelic powers. She was exactly what her father desired from the first dabbling into darkness, and because she was his daughter, she was a failure, for he would not sacrifice her as he had Jonathan.

Still, regardless of how miserable the thought of their reuniting might make her, she longed for it. She had greatly wronged them, and they deserved their own chance to reprimand her for that misdeed. But they were her children, regardless of what monstrosities they may be.

A soft padding noise, wet and damp as it echoed in the darkness alerted the woman of the creature approaching quickly and surely.

Turning, the woman looked back over her shoulder, and her bleary eyes shone brightly in the candle light. A woman, no a girl. She leaned against the doorway with her arms wrapped around her midriff, running rapidly along her arms to heat herself from the outside chill. The noise was soft, like skin on skin, and Jocelyn could only motherly worry over what exactly she had gone out in this time. It was too cool out now for anything less than long sleeves.

"We have them, mother."

Years may have passed and her life was so sure here, but still she could not see enough to make out who it was in the dark, though the bitter voice could only belong to one person in the pack.

Forcing on the best smile she could muster, Jocelyn stood and reached out for the girl's hand, "Vianey."

"Yes Mother." Expertly she held out a lighter and it sparked thrice before igniting into a blaze along the wall. The wall sconce burst into flames brilliantly, and within the next blink, the dark-skinned girl had gone and come back, the discarded gears she once wore in hand.

Jocelyn never thought she would ever have to don these again.

Good thing she had the nimble fingers of an assassin at hand.

_**XOX**_

Maryse had woken up early that next morning after Clary's party to the sound of Max breaking out of his crib as he was known to do when Isabelle didn't wake up and pull him out for breakfast.

It was acceptable this time. Her children were probably still at the Morgenstern mansion, passed out in their own rooms. It was a sure sign that Isabelle and Alec were just not here.

Half asleep, she pulled herself out of bed, situating the long sweater she had slept in over the leggings in case someone was moving about in the hallways as she headed directly for her son's bed.

Max was not there. Her heart began racing just as she heard a squeal down the stairs and a sharp rapping noise muting it out. He sat at the bottom of the staircase, holding a stuffed bear that was nearly as large as he was, his hand against his mouth as if he'd been gnawing at the back of one of his knuckles again. "Szzzy!"

Coming down the stairs, the mother swept her son up as a loud pounding began anew. Shouldering the young boy, she hesitantly opened the door; she was not prepared for the wide, frantic eyes of her daughter as she shoved her way into the house and tried to drag her mother back out with her.

What was wrong? Isabelle was level headed, always. For something to have disturbed her this much, it must have been earth shattering. She shook, as her hands clutched at her mother's forearm and tugged, trying to lead her away from their home, "Isabelle Lightwood! What, by the angel-"

"They're gone!" the raven haired girl let go, just to rake her fingers irritable through her hair, twisting the ends in her tight grasp to calm herself. Maryse doubted she even noticed that she did it. "I went to wake Clary up for breakfast, and she wasn't in her room, or Jonathan's, Jace's or Simon's! I looked everywhere, but they're not in the house! They're all gone!"

Understanding settled heavily on her. The children had gone missing now as well, just over five years after their mother and in the night just as Jocelyn had. The older woman grabbed hold of her daughter's shoulders, wrenching her back into the house, "Stay here!"

She gave only a momentary fight before realizing her baby brother had been forced into her arms just as the door shut. The only duty she ought to have is protecting the infant, being a good older sister.

_**XOX**_

It was true.

The entire house had been searched, every door opened and lightly scanned. Jonathan, Clary and Simon were missing. Maryse had raced to the house on her own, and gathered the staff for armed hunt.

Jace had been found in his room with her son pretty early on, and the Lightwood woman directed Alec with great duress to take him back to their home; if this was anything like Jocelyn's disappearance, she didn't want them lost in the crossfire when the realization dawned on the searchers and Valentine that they were indeed gone. The last time was enough of an experience and it had taken years of therapy to calm Clary after her father had gone off the deep end the last time.

When at last every room had been looked into, that there was absolutely no chance that any of the missing children could be found in the house, she resolved to finding their father herself.

He was not in his room or the office, but she found the cellar door ajar, and called down to him after she had set the staff on to look for every trace they could find of everyone that had been in the house in the past day.

The cellar had never given her the best of feelings. In fact, from the first day he had invited her down there, the truest sign of trust the man ever gave anyone, she had begged him to shut it down. She could not sway his hand, however. He must have real results if he refused so strongly. She had only dared to go as far as the bottom of the stairs, but even that far was too close to evil for her liking.

With a deep breath, she mustered her courage, and tried her best to ignore to cringing beasts he had strung up by hooks suspended in the ceiling and chained up, half hidden behind curtains that were thrown up for her benefit. She could still hear them crying in agony, could smell the decay in the small room, and it set her off kilter more than the ancient evil laced and ground into the walls did, and she swallowed hard before calling for her lover, "Valentine-!"

He didn't respond, forcing her further into the horrid room. The floor clicked wetly beneath her boots and it sent everything alive into a tizzy, fearing the pain they were sure that would come next. Nearing halfway through the room, she could hear his groan in response. Turning, she spotted him passed out in an armchair, his eyes cracking open blearily.

He looked exhausted and it made her curious what had been so important that he had been locked away down here while his children were stolen from him.

Suddenly she was furious. That was right. His arm was bruised darkly, which only meant he has busy drugging himself to oblivion. Perhaps this would push him hard enough to close this damned place down, though she doubted it mattered now- he had lost everything important to him now. Folding her arms across her chest, she ignored the helpless smile he gave her as he waved her closer to him, intending her to take a seat on his lap.

When she didn't respond, he forced his eyes more open and sat up groggily.

Something upset her enough to refuse him, hell to come down here in the first place. With a sneer of disgust the woman marched off, "Sober up, Valentine. Your children need you."

Maryse couldn't sugar coat it, nor would she try to. Had he been asleep in his room, it would have been different. He was at fault for this entirely.

If his daughter's body turned up somewhere, the blame would lie entirely on his shoulders. Maryse doubted she could forgive him for that.

_**XOX**_

"Clarissa has gone missing, Jonathan," Valentine's voice had an edge to it, the grating nature catching at his nerves like a loose nail on a cashmere sweater. He watched his son as he nonchalantly continued on with his life while everyone else seemed broken in two. His youngest was even aware of her absence despite his age and the fact that he lived in another household. The starlight haired man supposed it was because of the Lightwood children, his sister Isabelle in particular. She coddled the boy and was very close with his daughter. Isabelle was beside herself, her eyes bloodshot. It took everything in her mother's power to keep her back at the Lightwood home while the rest of his household searched for his daughter. Perhaps the time had come that he involved himself in the toddler's life, move him close where he could be protected.

Someone was kidnapping his children after all.

Jonathan nodded mutely, feeling the air around his head sizzle hotly, his breathing erratic as entropy reigned in his mind. Clary had gone missing; there was nothing he could do about it but worry about his young sister's safety. He had distanced himself from her, hoping to give her what little freedom he could, and Jace seemed to understand the situation; he needed one of them, and it didn't particularly matter which. So if he chose to let the Morgenstern boy have what he wanted from him, Clary didn't have to suffer. Their mutual love for their sister was one of the few things that truly bound them. "Gone up to see mother dearest, has she?"

His tone came out bitter and snarky as he played with a piece of meat in his bowl that he had little desire in eating. It wasn't that he didn't care what happened to her. No, farther from the truth, he needed her safe. But he couldn't help but make light of the situation that twice now inside of six years the same people had waltzed in and played them for fools, taking the ones that were dearest to Valentine away. He couldn't protect her where she was now, but the mundane would in his place even if it meant his life only bought her a bit longer to live, and then their people would bring her back. They had made a mistake in taking Clary. Now they had all they needed to find out what had happened to their mother as well.

Then, he would teach them the error of their ways. The thought brought a wicked smile to his full lips.

"Your sister is missing, damn it, show some compassion!" Tightening his fist, Valentine stood threateningly upright as he slammed his hand against the table, up starting the children and their place settings. Max began screeched and reached for Maryse, whom had rounded the table and drew her babe as close to her breast as possible, and the pale boy began to minutely twitch, his shirt covered by the upturned bowl of stew as he looked up at the infuriated man seething beside him. His father looked about to kill him, and perhaps he had the right to do so.

"I would rather they had taken you instead of the Mundane boy." His father sneered at him and the look of hate in his father's eyes put him on edge again, like he needed to escape. Pushing back in his chair, the legs scraped along the marble tile, squeaking.

When he did stand it was agonizingly slow, and he moved with a smooth and robotic purpose, his glare never lowering. He turned stiffly, shoving the chair against the table mutely as moved to leave the room.

Jonathan was done with this man and this woman and her baby. These people were not his family. Half of them were gone and the other half didn't care how he was holding on.

As he neared the open door, he could hear their heartbeats erratically synchronize, the tremor of fear and fury like a symphony, waking the evilest parts inside of him. He needed this edge cut down again, needed Jace, and he would have to figure it out on his own tonight. Jonathan would not stoop to prowling along Alicante for the wayward boy.

He knew somehow that his father did not speak again, but it was almost as if he read his mind, the stiff figure following him distrustfully. He could hear the familiar voice loud and crisp, chasing after him as he went. _**"At least then I would have someone of actual use."**_

"And I'm sorry father," he called over his broad shoulder as he shrugged down the hallway, a pendulum- like sway to his hips, "but it seems you programmed me without compassion. Better luck with that _**next**_ kid you'll fuck up, or perhaps with my Jace. They're your _**favorites**_ now, _**aren't they**_?"

Valentine allowed him to escape as his son's choice of words circled around in his mind like an unsavory taste. Though the response was bitterly resentful, it had merit. He knew he didn't trust his son not to fuck this up. Jonathan was irrational at the best of times and the older man could only assume he would allow the uncurbed wrath to boil out his veins and he couldn't allow that.

With every loss of control he lost his son more and more. Too soon he would lose him completely to insanity unless they found a more permanent solution to his condition. The injections were meant to do that for him, but their inconsistency was less than appetizing, and more than once Jonathan had returned to his original state after only a few days. Then, suddenly they began working again as if by magic and for weeks the boy seemed cured, and Jonathan went for almost a month without shooting up. Jonathan had been 7 then, things were different now; now his son was dealing with his own nature and hormones, and the two were startlingly too similar for Valentine's tastes.

From then on Valentine vowed he would see his monster to his grave, fitfully when he saw there nothing left of the child he held.

But Jace was different. He was Valentine's favorite son; he was level headed and brave and the best soldier he could have asked for.

But he was too soft, almost meek enough that he regretted slaying the demon- borne that swept over their lands. He so resembled Clary in that way, but for his daughter it was all right, she was a girl after all.

Jace was a boy, the adopted son of the most well heard power in Nephilim history; he had no choice but to bruise the boy and break him in hopes that it would make him stronger.

Pushing the chair in, the white haired man looked at his youngest and the woman that bore him, anxiously watching him. Maryse watched him silently, and her breathing hitched as their eyes met.

"Valentine..." She began softly, the tone so full of emotion that it threatened to break her, "I'm so so-"

The man's retreating form cut her off, his hand raised in a silencing gesture, "have Jace brought to my office immediately."

With that the man left, leaving no room for argument.

Maryse stood at the open door, watching his masculine prowl as he stormed away furious, so like and yet so different from his first born, wondering what the future would hold for the son in her arms.

The strain of favoritism in this family was dangerously deadly. She would not be able to save her baby from the heartache and pressure of his father's affections, not as his new chosen child.

That left her only one choice: exalting the prior holder I the position. She would have to find a way to save Jonathan, somehow turn him human again.

That is, if there was anything human left in the child her lover had destroyed.

_**XOX**_

_**Author's note:**_

_**Ithuriel twist came from some inspiration from Paradise Lost, in which Ithuriel and Zephon go and try to track Satan down. I figured it a bit ironic that Ithuriel would be sent to punish Valentine (who's surname stems from Lucifer) for creating a demon-Nephilim child.**_

_**I apologize for the jumpiness of the last few chapters. I feel like I pushed out certain parts now, perhaps lower than expectations and may go back EVENTUALLY and alter them so they're a bit less hurried and closer to the caliber that I wanted some of them to be. I felt like I was lingering too long off of where I wanted to go, what excites me to write and so some of the writing just doesn't seem right to me as it is yet.. The interactions with Jonathan and Aline were like that too. **_

_**This whole chapter was meant to be bittersweet with her continuously turning her down.**_

_**Jocelyn's flashbacks have always been just little dabbles and I wondered where to put them. I liked the idea of her thinking on her children's growth as she's writing out what she might say when she would eventually see them again. So that's what they became.**_

_**Lyrics belong to Ashley Tisdale: 'How do you love someone'**_

_**Either way, I hope to get to the hard story line faster now.**_

_**As a bit of a heads up: the next chapter may take some time to get out and posted. With the Day after Thanksgiving Sale at work, Thanksgiving itself, and some birthday celebrations, I'm going to be a bit busier than normal. I'm expecting a bit longer of a chapter, but it should hit by the end of November. It will probably be the only chapter for November as well, even if I get it out before Thanksgiving.**_

_**Liked it? Review, Follow, Fave.**_

_**Show the love**_

_**Til next time**_

_**TAORI**_


	9. Crumble

"_**For a star to be born,**_

_**There is **_one thing_** that must happen:**_

_**A gaseous nebula must **_collapse.

_**So collapse.**_

_**Crumble.**_

_**This is not your**_

destruction.

_**This is your birth."**_

_**n.t.**_

Tentatively, the golden haired boy stood, shaking in front of the only father he had ever known. At thirteen and a half years old, he could count the times he had been summoned by the General of Clave's army to stand before the man that controlled the government himself with only half of one of his hands. Both times, he had been sick to his stomach as his nerves took over and fight or flight tried to ignite some sense in him before he'd managed to choke out two words to his father figure. The only other time, he had Alec's strength to fall back on, but now as he stood before Valentine in the frigidly cold room, he knew he was the only one that would be coming here to his rescue.

Nervously, he swallowed, trying to calm himself on his own. His palms would start to sweat any moment now and he didn't need to look like he was running a marathon. He didn't want Valentine to think any less of him. Looking at the man, it was hard to read him, and though he was sure it was expected of him, Jace couldn't bring himself to stand at attention, leaving his hands to limply hang at his sides, and as his fingers twitched with worry he stared out the open window above Valentine's stark white hair, waiting for the inevitable end.

He'd been talking now for a good half hour, and Jace still didn't catch any drift of the reason for the summoning. He was just about ready to ask for the axe so he could do himself in when the man finally revealed anything, and at long last, Jace let out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"It is a dreadful task that I have to place before you, Jonathan Herondale. One I fear you might have some difficulty performing. It has come to my attention that my wife has betrayed me, run off to alliance herself with the wolf clans to the west where an old foe of mine now reigns. I would turn a blind eye to her traitorous acts, if it weren't for her having our daughter abducted. Her safety must be seen to before all else-"

"Clary's been kidnapped?!" the slight boy exclaimed. Looking at Valentine, no one else would have probably saw the way the tall man's jaw locked nor the way his eyelids tightened at the sound of his daughter's preferred pet name coming from _**his **_soldier's lips, nor would anyone else but Jace or his blood son, react in just the same way to this news. Jonathan was simply out of question now; Valentine had been against sending his only other child into the fray anyway, but his inability to refrain himself of late made his father wary to leave him on his own. It was why it _**had**_ to be Jace that went for her. It was a personal need that he was fulfilling; second only to the fact it was a mission, one he had asked for and was unheard of for someone so young. It meant he would give his all to succeed.

The boy looked as if someone had doused him with a bucket of ice water. Valentine had expected him to piss himself moments before and now he stood before him paler than before and the shaking was unmistakable, like whatever had held his resolve before to remain strong before his father had been shattered, like a pin being pulled from a hinge. His _**daughter's loss**_ had done that to him. He had no right being so familiar with her, however. Jace was, after all, practically a servant. His life in their home came down to his usefulness. The moment he became an utter waste, he would throw him out on his own like yesterday's garbage. There was no familial love between he and the boy, though he saw how the boy looked up to him and he felt a small amount of human kindness for the boy. If he had chosen it, Jace would have made an excellent replacement for Jonathan, but Valentine still had that vain hope that his first born might pull through after these next few difficult years.

With a grinding cringe to his jaw, he leaned back into his chair, his hand rising to his temple to stave off the impending headache he was already giving himself. It wouldn't do to strangle the boy, not now that he had settled that he was the only choice for the job. Jace was simply overstepping a slight boundary he had set in place, not playing skip- rope with it.

"_**Clarissa **_is missing, and I do believe that her mother has something to do with it. I ask that as my adopted son, you find my precious daughter. Bring her back to me, regardless of the costs. And as a mark of faith, I shall allow you a partner, to make sure that you are victorious. Choose who you will, you know your arms well. Return her to me safe, and you will name your reward."

Jace was speechless. He was giving him free reign to assign and run his own mission solo or with a partner, to retrieve Clary no less. Nothing in the world would have made him happier, save for the prize; he could ask for Clary, once he was worthy of her. And wouldn't saving her from impending doom and returning her home be the worthiest way to do that?

"You asked for an assignment, and here I present you the dearest of them all. Will you take it, Jonathan, and make me proud, or should I find another to take your place?"

His heart raced, and he felt like leaping for joy, no matter how inappropriate, "Thank you_**, thank you**_, I won't displease you, sir!"

He was gone in whirlwind, almost faster than Valentine's eyes could watch. He was enthusiastic. That was excellent, as no one had found any trace of his wife when she left, and barely any evidence was left this time. What had been left behind by the intruders had been a mockery, a show of disdain. They must have known how hard they had looked for any sign of identity last time, but only found his family's finger prints. This time, they made sure to showcase everything that was touched, but nothing had been left behind to trace. Whoever it was, they were trying to goad him, but it did not matter. He had gathered enough the last time to figure out what had probably occurred. His theories were now in the boy's eager hands, and it would be a shot in the dark at best, but he hoped the boy would succeed and he would be right at long last, with his daughter returned to him and perhaps her mother if all the cards played out right.

It was only moments before the dark shrouded woman slipped back into his office, as if she had nothing better to do than make a mockery of him and his losses. She set a cup of black coffee before him on the desk as she drew up into her perch of a chair beside his desk, in between the shadows and the sliver of sunlight the curtain caste in the room, her knees drawn up as she rested her chin and her hands on them, looking to the man with a truly remorseful gaze, her eyes bright and vividly blue in the dying sunlight that had caught her face in a dazzlingly warm blaze as she leaned into it, sighing at the warmth.

Silence reigned between them, but Valentine could not break it. He lost many things but he would never lose the power that this room gave him, no matter how worried she appeared to look for him, no matter how she tried to interfere in any of his hearts desires and needs, he was still in charge. She would never have power over him, not as Jocelyn had.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly after too long had passed them by. He refused to look at her, but if he had she was certain she would have broken down beside him. His daughter was gone, as was his one true love. He might have her now, but Jocelyn beat her out every time, even in memory.

Still, he looked anywhere but at her, and she resigned herself to stay the depression and the darkness that had settled in this house, to never knowing what really lurked behind the man's pitch black gaze.

For now, it was the only thing she could do, without destroying all of her own desires.

_**XOX**_

Waking was never one of Clary's favorite things to do, though she never struggled quite the way she did now to open her eyes. It was like she was floating in a warm pool, comfort wrapping around her groggy mind in a way that set her off a nervous tick that she was _**too comfortable**_, like instinctively she felt like she was the fly in a spider's web, neuro toxins pumping through her veins to make her stay half alive and unable to fight back. She knew she had to open her eyes, but there seemed to be a weight settling across them, convincing her otherwise. She found she wanted to obey her selfish desires, to drift off again to dream land, but she struggled against the heavy sleep regardless.

It didn't budge. Sleepily, she raised her hands to her eyes, struggling with the covers that had been tucked up around her chin for several moments as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. Out of half cracked lids, she saw nothing, and she wasn't even too certain that her hands had even risen upon her orders. She no longer felt the bed against them, but they were otherwise numb, like an anesthetic had been locally injected. Weakly, her hands fell back to her thighs, sliding limply across the soft flannel pants.

_**Wait, pants? She had gone to bed in her slip last night… **_Clary's head rose, looking as far as she could to define her surroundings. She wasn't in her room; she could make that much out. She wasn't in the same clothes she went to bed in either. Her room could never be this dark. The girl weakly cringed, trying to move her legs. They would not budge, as if locked in a vice or cuffed to the bed frame, despite the freedom her feet felt. It was like her arms, but heavier. They would not obey her command, and when she sat up to touch them, her head swam, her weak vision swimming painfully as a tightening knot in her stomach announced her queasiness before the bile rose into her mouth.

Had she been drugged?

Who knew? Most certainly not her. Hefting up onto her elbows, the world swam again before her eyes dizzily, crying for her to remain where she was for now, to close her eyes and drift away to that lovely place sleep took her. Chances were on drugged. Closing her eyes made it no better nor worse, it was as dark in the world around her as it was in her mind, but she felt too endanger of losing consciousness again that way.

Suddenly frantic, she patted herself down as best as she could with no feeling in her hands, the movement coming more as a messy sweep of her hands than a pat down. Her stele was still with Simon, wherever he had gone or been taken to, and her garter where her seraph blade had been at her coming of age party was missing. She was completely defenseless and out of her element.

No, not defenseless. She was a Morgenstern, after all. She knew how to use her hands and nails if she needed to really protect herself. Until they resorted to dismantling her, she had a chance at defending herself, however slight. But she couldn't stay here, either way. She needed her eyes, and if the Angel would will it, something to defend herself with would be nice.

Rolling to the edge of the bed weakly, the girl reached down towards where she hoped the floor would greet her delicate, cold fingertips. It was the only thing she was certain of, the only thing that she could be hopelessly sure of no matter where or what happened to her. Up was up, and down was down, and if she gave up control to it, Gravity would show her the way down. With no other choice with the weakness that had shaken her knees, she let herself slide off the cot to the cobbled slab floor.

It was further than she had anticipated. Hitting hard, the exposed stone bit at her knees and the palms of her hands that had risen to stop her fall defiantly. She wanted to cry, but stifled the noise in the back of her throat. Blood was seeping from the scrapes in her hands, but the darkness was too thick to see just how bad the damage was. It couldn't be that bad could it? Nothing she couldn't persevere through at least, right? She had to get out of here somehow.

What would she do if they found out she was awake and returned? Whoever it was had stripped her of all of her defenses. How could she expect anything less than the worst from such a person or people?

Touching the ground, she stumbled along the uneven floor on all fours, crouched like a dog as she searched out a wall, where she hoped to find a door, painfully wincing when she twisted a stone into her roughed hands and knees accidentally.

That would be half her battle. Find the door, find the way out.

Fight any thing off that tried to stop either of those things from happening.

Slowly, she shuffled her way across the craggy, compounded rocks that served as flooring, blindly cutting herself as she dragged herself along the floor half limply. She would get out of here, one way or another, broken or whole.

_**XOX**_

Banging on the door in the pouring rain in the dead of night was probably not the best decision Jace had taken in his seventeen years of life. Now, drenched to the bone and in utter twilight, he was fairly certain no one was home, or at the very least no one was awake and willing enough to make the short journey to check the door. Frozen cold as the water seeped bone deep, the boy decided that he might as well go in regardless of welcome, and make himself comfortable until a time they were up to speaking with him.

It took a few moments to jimmy open the door as his lock picking skills were minimal, but he only had to contend with the flimsy lock that Maryse had put on to help deter thieves and to keep her estranged husband out of her business. Using his stele, he rammed the tip into the lock, wrenching it upward as he twisted the lock loose. How Robert Lightwood never thought of this, Jace would never figure out.

Shouldering it gently, the heavy door swung open louder than he had anticipated, creaking as it flew through the air and bounced sharply against the wall; he caught it before it bounded back entirely, shutting it as quietly as possible with a wince. If anyone were asleep he didn't need them to wake up.

But chances were that someone was still roaming the house. The hallway was illuminated, and in the den off to the left of the room he stood idly in had a large fire roaring to life. The interior of the waiting room was a pale blue, the fire light throwing a red and gold flickering hue over it and everything else as far as it could reach, washing everything with a warm hue. The receiving room opened up into the family room with low, plush couches to the left and a winding staircase to the right sweeping upward over an arched doorway that led downward like a hill mound in a gentle slope to the rest of the house, he could only assumed, as he only ever dared go this far.

Maryse Lightwood ran a very clean ship, and their white carpet was impeccably pure and flawless, so bright it was like staring at a blank piece of paper under the sun. He felt guilty enough to kick off his dirty boots on the tiled floor, knowing there was no hope he had about the pools of water he shed off like a waterfall. At least here, he could attempt to bring the house back to its unreasonably clean standard and hope the blame would not land on him when Maryse finally did notice the remains he would likely leave as evidence.

A noise at the stairs made him give pause, freezing in the act, bent over as he unthreaded the laces to his boots. He heard a feminine intake, the lofty noise making him slowly rise back to his full height. He began to turn, praying that the voice did not belong to the Lightwood mother. He didn't have enough in him to take a round with her tonight.

A voice cut through him, and a wave of relief washed over him mid turn. It was not Maryse but her daughter that lingered. Her voice was raspy and soft, as if she was trying not to wake anyone up, _**"Alec is that you?"**_

Isabelle Lightwood stood on the stairs, her long black hair in a loosely plaited braid over her shoulder and a witch light stone in her hand, held out as far in front of her as she could as if that might make the dark more inviting, as if a foot more might shed enough light to make out the dark shadow he caste near the door. What it did allow, however, was Jace's ability to look at the girl's face, scrunched up as she tried to make him out, half out of it like he had woken her up, perhaps, but in her other hand she held a book.

No, she looked too well to have just risen from bed. Had she been trying to stay up to wait for someone? Alec or her mother, perhaps? Looking harder at her, he smiled, humorously shaking his head. Then, Jace laughed. He'd known the girl for most of his life, and despite how far their looks were a part, his mannerisms or his body type, or something often got him mistaken in the dark as Alec, the eldest child of the Lightwoods. Jonathan had done so when they were training, enough times to upset him, but it had been brushed aside by the elder boy that he must just remind him of , perhaps he fought in a similar manner, moved in the same fluidity that was remarkably familiar, but Jace couldn't help but wonder if it was something else. Isabelle just now had seen it, felt it. They were highly faithful to the Morgenstern family, just as he was, and as such he had grown beside the elder boy and his younger sister, but he could not see a connection that could get him mistaken as the other boy as often as he was.

"No Izzy, it's just me." His voice came out rough, and he almost laughed again as the tall girl rushed down the stairs to the door to greet him.

"Thank the _**Angel**_ you are _**alright!**_" Isabelle's arms were like warm iron binding him to her. He resisted momentarily, pulling away as he felt her warmth sap the moisture that soaked deep into his gears, but ended up drawing her nearer, his nose tickling on the silky raven hair that rested beneath it. Her nails bit painfully into his back as she held him desperately close, but he tried not to mind. _**"We were so worried**_! You were in Alec's room and then you weren't- _**You have got to be more careful**_. Do you have any idea what's going on, what has happened? The entire city is in an uproar, we ha-a-"

_**"Jace, you're dripping wet!**_ You have to get out of those clothes before you get sick!" at last she pulled away, as if she had not noticed he was drenched to the bone, but her reprimanding was endearing, comical even. In the doorway, she was stripping him down, throwing the jacket into the corner where it landed with a wet plop.

"Izzy!" he cried, catching at the hands which crossed so many boundaries he didn't know where to start counting, folding the fingers down in his grasp, "Stop. Just get me a towel or a sheet or something and I'll change into Alec's clothes once I talk to him. Is he here?"

When she didn't answer, the boy began to wonder. Was Alec here even? Was that why she had originally thought it was her brother at the door? Had she fallen asleep waiting for him to come back to her?

"I have to discuss something with him. We need to define this… I mean what's going to happen between u…"

He cut short, but it was enough to get the gears churning in Isabelle's mind. _**They needed to define what was going on between them? **_Her gentle heartbeat raced faster, with the realization that her brother may indeed receive the object of his desires. Her heart soared for him, truly it did. It had been a long time that he had been smitten with the golden haired boy, and Isabelle had been afraid that nothing would come of it. Now, the boy stood in their living room, dripping wet in the dead of night, and wanting to see Alec? Was he truly that desperate to see her brother?

"_**HE'SUPSTAIRSINHISROOM!" **_she shrieked at last. Jace smiled at her, patting her cheek tenderly before racing up the stairs, having long forgotten the wetness of his clothes.

If Maryse had shit to say about it, he would take it another day. For now, he had a mission set before him and he had to get a move on it immediately.

_**XOX**_

"_**But Luuuukkeee," **_an auburn haired girl dramatically threw her shoulders forward, slumping pitifully as she dragged her feet pitifully. Sometimes he forgot how hard it was to talk sense into teenagers, and this lot was no exception to the rule. Her older sister nicked her ear painfully with her pointer finger and thumb without a passing glance, her eyes trained respectfully on the elder in the room.

"What she means to say," the girl began, turning a withering look on the smaller girl to level the meaning of her mild attack, her brown eyes large as she stared her sister down, "is can't some of the boys go down? We are just women after all, we're practically useless."

Lucian never expected this much work would go into running a wolf pack. The politics and hierarchy were enough to choke a horse, and the magnitude of it was almost comical considering they lived like cavemen that regularly bathed.

They would have to go. Whether they liked it or not, it was their turn to reinforce the barriers, to check the outskirts of the caves for any creepy- crawly slimy demonic spawn. They had found Behemoths a few months back, proving that even as Downworlders they were not safe here. No one was spared from that reality here, and it was their responsibility to keep everyone safe. He was having enough of the arguments his pack raised. None of the other six Alphas seemed to have received this amount of hell over a few hours hike through the depths of the cave networks.

Perhaps it was time to reinstate his authority. It was a pain, however, as he would have to strategically take down one of his underlings, put him in his place so the rest of his pack would get the message. Thing was, none of them really caused enough fuss for reprimand.

"Why have you been listening to Kito again, Amabel? God only knows that man is a chauvinistic piece of work, why let him get in your head like that?"

The girl shifted, crossing her arms loosely under her large breasts as she diverted her attention to the mouth of the den, her attentive, dark eyes darting from Lucian to the entryway through her thick, pin straight hair. She didn't seem to be taking his words to heart, but it didn't matter much. She would obey his direct order if he gave it. "He's an alpha, isn't he? I'll listen to him as much as I would you or my mother."

"Yeah but your mother and I aren't spoon feeding you bulls-"

"Luke!" A deep voice rasped loudly, hollowly echoing through the wet, dark halls. The telltale sign of his approach lit the tunnel up like the full moon at his feet, making the darkened tunnel illuminate. The raggedly cut head perked up, as the thinly toned man attached to it whipped around to face the opening to the room, the lesser wolves surrounding him raising to stand alert.

_**Sure,**_ Lucian found himself thinking bitterly, _**now they know how to act.**_

"_**Speak of the devil, and he will appear."**_

The beastly form of another alpha had prowled in, looking positively wrathful as his deep tanned flesh rolled fluidly, thick bands of muscle straining. It had set the underlings that had been meeting with him into a frenzy, the younger two girls clinging to each other as the elder one shook silently, the hair on her arms raised on end. In the second it took for them to recognize the intruder, the only other male in the room, a boy with dark, curly hair and brilliantly light hazel eyes had shoved Amabel behind him, her hand resting in the small of his back as she raised her other arm to guarded her siblings behind her. It was a truly pleasing sight if it weren't for the fact that what threatened them into action was one of their own, unarmed. None of them dared to blink, their eyes fixed at the new threat in their home. The silver- streaked brown- haired man could only do his best to set them at ease with his own peace. This man never was one known for his subtlety and the way he was gallivanting around the den, he was sure to get into a one sided fight that would end up with four whimpering children and probably him limping away. Raising his hand, the elder werewolf put his betas to rest as best as he could, "Kito, what is it? Are the walls breaking again?"

"Luke, the girl's gone, ran from the room your boys put her in last night." The black man glanced to the other boy in the room, a threatening enough lycan in his true form, he was no match for either Luke or himself in either form, but the way he was thrashing around made him wonder if there might be something more than an outburst. The rest of them were sniveling bitches anyway. Without his direct disobedience, there would be no fight unless they were clueless.

Kito was certain that he would not fall prey to any woman's strength. It would take a cunning male too stupid for his own good to do any sort of real damage to him. His ruthless stare glared down the beta male, regardless of the improbability that he would challenge him to be an Alpha.

The boy seemed content enough to remain under Lucian.

"This is not good Luke," the late teen with short, dark brown hair growled lightly, his hand pulling at the length of locks near his ear. He was frustrated, as the ex- Shadow- hunter was sure all of his pack was, that they had orchestrated yet another kidnapping for to appease someone that wasn't even of their own kind, even though he had been obedient and done exactly as he was told a few nights before. The kid's jaw still hurt from where the little bastard had punched him before he knocked him out and it was swollen now, deep purple where it had been struck. It put them all on edge that the number of Nephilim in their den were slowly outnumbering their pack leaders, just three more and they would be evenly matched arm to arm. "I _**told you**_ we should have drugged the little bitch up or tied her punk ass-"

_**"Mica."**_

The boy turned sharply, twitching at the tone of voice the large man standing behind Lucian spoke with. He was much larger than the youth, and well into his thirties. Mica knew better than to challenge one alpha but when a second stood at the others side he had to do some swift back pedaling. "My apologies, Kito. I mean no disrespect to my alpha or his kin. But perhaps reasonable accommodations should have been seen-"

"She's still here, isn't she?" Kito laughed haughtily, clapping the boy in the back of the shoulder. The movement set the blonde at his back off, and she bit back a snarl just as it was about to be born, "Trust me accommodations enough have been in line. We'll find the twerp one way or another. There's only one way out, we'll either come across her in the next few days or her body, eventually. _**Someday.**_"

The idea of that was unpleasant, albeit truthful. It would probably be them that found her too, with how Luke was trying to run timely sweeping parties along the entire perimeter of the cave network. Mica moved to step away from the three girls when a loud shriek reverberated around the room, and a sharp snarl erupted from one of the younger ones. What little peace that had settled among his underlings had shattered with the sound, and he could see that the four had wisely begun to transform to with the emotions the sound evoked deep within them.

"Well. It appears our search won't take _**nearly**_ as long as I originally had assumed. It looks like she may have found herself some trouble, that little lady of yours. "

Glancing back to the others that flanked him, Luke gestured to Mica to follow them out and the black man gestured with a flick of his chin that he ought to leave the room first. The boy got the hint and took the lead, wrenching himself from the clinging female as he stepped sure- footedly into the pitch black hall and climbed blindly up the pathway with scuttling feet until the residual glow took its place and illuminated his path. Kito was right on his tail, metaphorically speaking for once, but hesitated at the doorway of the room for Lucian to take position in their progression. No others were needed with them, not with two powerhouses together.

The three girls remained, the younger ones fending off the change far worse than Amabel, whom still shook, but seemed completely human despite the golden hue her brown orbs had taken on.

The order was passed through their eyes, and the girl nodded mutely, stiffly drawing away to lead her sisters into the winding tunnels. She recognized the command without the spoken order, but Lucian called out to them all the same so there would be no questionability if later he found they had disobeyed him, "The rest of you, get down to the lower levels. I want every inch scoured by dark."

_XOX_

When Clary set her mind to do something, she was sure to accomplish what she had planned. It was one of the few things she knew about herself that was irrevocably true. In her blind journey along the floor, she had cut herself a plethora of times and only once gave pause after a broken shaft of rock embedded in the palm of her hand. She had wrenched it out quickly from the shock of the pain, forgetting all of her minor medical training and did what it would have demanded that she not do, and threw the rock as far from her as she could muster, which was not far off, maybe three feet where it made a cracking noise and it backfired towards her with a scattering noise. _**The wall.**_

The cut was deep, and Clary knew enough to know it would need binding as she felt the languid wetness run down her middle finger to drip to the floor. With little regard, she tore her sleeve off, twisting the soft fabric into a tight bandage and securing it with a knot over her wrist.

The pain had reached her despite the drugged haze when she bound the wound tight enough to stint the bleeding. That had to be a good sign- that she was getting better. It made it clearer to her as well, that she needed something, anything to defend herself.

The rock was her new search, her hands sliding along the floor in the direction she heard it scatter off to. Seizing the sharp feeling rock from the floor, still slick with her blood on the one tip, the girl turned it around three times in her hands before settling on the best way to hold it. It wasn't perfect, but it would do if she found herself in a pinch. It was sharp on two ends, but the sides were smooth and slippery, like water had eroded the roughness of it away, but she found that the one side above the razor sharp edge had a good nook to it to wrap her pinky around to gain leverage should she have to stab with it.

The small girl dragged herself still in her drugged haze along the floor, across the room in the pitched darkness to the wall she now knew the location of and then around the room until she found the door shakily touching the wall as she shuffled, scratching rather than biting her knees and hands. The entire process took much less time than she had figured it would. To her surprise, there was no solid door to keep her in, but rather a curtain that swung open easily and waved in the gentle draft the empty hallway gave off.

Hesitating at the doorway, she used the small space to heft herself to her feet, her strong legs anchoring her in place as she walked her back weakly up the wall and she waited for someone to come running at her, for anyone unseen to jump her and force her back the way she had come, but no one came.

If they wanted her enough to drug her, why hadn't she been tied to the bed or given a guard to watch the doorway in the instance she did manage to make it there? Why had there been no deterrents in place to keep her where they put her?

Stepping out into the corridor, she noticed that it was indeed brighter here. Tiny baubles in the stone walls glowed lightly at her touch, reminding her of witch- light stones most Shadow- hunters kept, and as she walked further out from the door, it glowed brighter, and she nearly winced as the hazy blue light enveloped her entirely. Light erupted from her makeshift blade as well, and Clary lifted it with a wince to inspect it. It was crystal, not craggy rock as she originally thought, and seemed to respond the same way the pathway did, and the closer it approached her torso the brighter it got. Taking a step forward, the glow followed her barefooted touch, and the girl forced her awe down as she continued quickly on her way. If anyone was here, the element of surprise and stealth were things she would lack with these glowing beacons tracking her.

The floor burned brighter with every foot fall until finally she was walking down the hallway with a steady speed, her head on pivot to make sure no one followed her, panicking momentarily every so often as the light made shadows from her hair as she looked about, brilliantly illuminated like she was walking on the ceiling with her shadow cast overhead and all around her.

She found herself running soon enough, haunted by the strange light. It ran passed her, predicting her movements, and it skipped around her like rocks over the water until it bounced off something else entirely, skittering up the walls and back towards her like thousands of balls thrown against a rounded surface. Each step she took did the same, bounding this way and that, and she slowed, curiously staring at the darkness beyond. Was it a wall up ahead? If so, why didn't it glow like the one she had entered the hallway by?

Leaning in, she pondered curiously, not daring to go any farther than she already had.

It was too late by time she realized what it was exactly.

Another human being. Or rather a group of them.

And they had her surrounded.

_**XOX**_

Jocelyn had followed the scrawny girl out of the room, awkwardly running her hand along the stiff gears that she had all but abandoned for years. They were hard to move in, difficult to remember, and the Shadow- hunter struggled to remember her old self. Had it always been this hard to be Valentine's wife? Blindly following the light as it rose up to meet the smaller feet before her, she tried to keep pace to remain in the dull light Vianey was emitting with every step. The crimson haired woman found that the lights evaded her here, leaving her abandoned in a way it did not do to the others presiding here.

She always assumed it had to do with her own bloodline, that she was not a werewolf and they were. But every step the girl took before her was met with as much vigor as the one that preceded it.

The girl brought enigma and mystery to her.

The stone in the necklace that bounded off her collarbone began to glow ethereally like those that lined the floor, illuminating the ridges in her soft face, the long lashes casting deep shadows over her lids and the scars that ran along her face harshened, bringing light to the darkness that this life brought them all. She was once a beautiful child, like they all were once, but this lifestyle could only harden you, could only destroy the beauty of the soul.

Her bright eyes were untouched by the mark, but they measured, they knew. The elder woman realized that she was moving much too slowly. The girl kept glancing back at her to make sure the quiet woman was indeed following.

"You need a haircut." The assessment from the quiet girl surprised Jocelyn, and after one of the sideways looks that were cast her way, the teen stepped into a low puddle with a wet splash that soaked her low hanging pants.

"You need a jacket," came the motherly advice before Jocelyn could help it. The girl was young enough to be her daughter even though she lived her life as an adult in the pack. She didn't need a mother, or at least she didn't act like it, and her affections received her a leveling, calculating look. "I'll let you cut it later if you agree to put something warmer on."

After several moments, the girl nodded, picking up the pace, forcing the Shadow- hunter to follow her at a near jog.

She set an unmatchable pace, her feet light and swift as something caught her eye, forcing Jocelyn to run after her.

"Asa!" came her voice again, as she saw her brother standing around with several other members of the pack. He was a tall boy with hair exactly like her own and cut in a similar fashion, and from the fifty feet away, Jocelyn could see something was very much not right. He didn't even flinch in response to his name. The way they grouped was a hard line that was backed up and flanked by lesser wolves, and in several members, she could see the elongating of snouts, lengthening ears.

The telltale signs of the change were evident in so many.

Vianey began to panic, and called for the boy again. This time he snarled a reply, something she didn't understand but it made her stay where she was until she figured out what was going on.

Was there another break in?

A fight for dominance?

The unlikely female in heat?

Jocelyn beat her to the punch, shoving through the crowd to the front, as was her right. She was the alpha bitch, these were her pack mates. If anything was going on she had the right to know, to interfere.

The responsive sigh was unexpected, however. The pack responded in turn, defending the Alpha's mate in the turn that she could be attacked, but the tone her voice took, the girl knew it. Shoving through the growing mass after her, she caught sight of a bloodied young girl, too thin for her own good, brandishing a makeshift weapon in her hand.

The voice was too much, too full of heart ache and loss that it tightened her heart painfully.

"_**Clary…?"**_

_**XOX**_

It had been in the works for a few months now to socialize the girls, much to their initial dismay. They were decent enough friends, but _**Parabatai?**_ They didn't have much in common with one another, save for their age and noble blood, but that seemed enough to hope for a parabatai bond. Not that it was _**required **_per say, but it definitely wouldn't hurt to try to get the two of them to make the oath even if they didn't mean it, apparently. You had until your eighteenth birthday to make the mark, you see, and thereafter the mark was permanent and binding; after the legal age it was impossible to make the parabatai bond no matter how good a match, and in her father's eyes no Parabatai was far worse than a pairing with anyone you just liked.

Alec and he had been different. From their first meeting, they had formed a palpable bound, something you could see as well as feel as the two fought together, moving as fluid as water. Jace could see himself beside no other person fighting for the rest of time, but Jonathan and Alec had already claimed one another before several of the reformed Clave members, and when the time came, the pair would stand before the council and recite the oath as their ancestors had before them and their successors would after them. But if not for that, Jace would have reached out for the boy, drawn him beside him to remain at his side for good. Alec had become his closest and dearest friend, which is why no other came before Alec in saving his master's daughter, the woman he had yearned for and pinned after since being brought into the house.

Knocking at the door, Jace half expected to be admitted immediately by the boy. Instead, nothing arose, not even a noise. Finding the door unlocked this time, he invited himself in. Did he need an invitation anyway? He had been asleep here just this morning. Surely that meant he was allowed to come and go as he pleased.

The room was tidy almost to the point of OCD ish, everything was pin straight in order and squared off with nothing that he could see askew, but he expected nothing less of the boy. He was his mother's son after all. Stepping into the immaculate room, Jace felt guilty again that he would probably mess something up on the other boy.

The only mussed thing in the room was the mound of blankets that were thrown at the bed rather than laid out, and the boy that huddled beneath them. Already asleep, the boy was swaddled in one of the thick blankets and he laid on his side, his back against the cool wall as he curled inward, his long fingers clutching the quilt right beneath his face as he breathed deeply, his mouth opened in a slight pout.

Jace would not just take the other boy's things without his expressed permission, but he wouldn't stay in his wet clothes all night. Stripping was his only option it seemed, until they could discuss the clothing issue. Silently, he began drawing off piece by piece, taking care to hang the leather up along the armoire doors and handles so it should dry mostly by morning.

Then, once certain everything was in order, the boy drew into the bed beside the dark- haired boy, trying to keep his distance on the twin bed but failing horribly as an ice cold foot touched one of Alec's warm ones, making the boy jump in surprise as he tried to recoil back to safety.

It was already too late. By time Jace had settled into the pillows, the boy had already been roused halfway. Sapphire eyes cracked open groggily to look at him before a goofy smile passed the boy's full, petal- like lips.

Alec had dreams that were similar to this, but this was beyond comparison. This was too good to be true; Jace couldn't be in his bed naked. That could not happen. Hell, in most of his dreams, the boy rejected him entirely, taking the traditional stance on his feelings for the other boy, despite the past experiences he knew the boy had. Snuggling into Jace, the dark haired boy sighed, content to feel the comfort of the boy's warm, muscular arm beneath his head while the dream lasted, to smell him while his mind swam dizzily, to taste his edgy breath as it panted wetly over his nose and cheekbones. He let go of the blanket in an uneven trade to hold the other boy, and his fingers curled in the golden locks near the base of his neck behind his right ear and against his neck at the edge of his collarbone. He would have kissed him now like he often did in his dreams, but the boy was so comforting this time, too real for his liking. It would hurt too much if he was rejected by this version of Jace, be too much like reality.

If he could just hold on to this Jace for just a few moments longer, everything would be fine when he finally melted away and he found himself alone once more. Just a little longer, and he would be able to recall the feeling of his bared flesh against his face, the way they almost melded together like two pieces of a yin- yang.

Sighing, he let his eyes flutter shut once more, resolved to remain as he was. That was until he heard it.

_**Felt it…**_

Yanking back, Alec forced his eyes open again. A heart was beating against his ear.

His reaction earned him a hearty laugh, and his right arm wrapped loosely around his waistline, shaking him gently after a moment.

"_**Alec… You 'wake?"**_

"Jace, you're wet." the voice groggily murmured as the thinner boy pulled away like the water was acidic. He drew the blankets after him as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes sleepily to remove the gunk in the corners. He was doubly glad he had not tried to kiss him now.

What was with this family and pointing out the obvious?

Half asleep, Alec couldn't gather what exactly was going on. Why was Jace in his room? Why _**was**_ he wet?

_**Why was he naked?**_

With a small pout he yawned tiredly, glaring lightly at the boy that was rising up to now sit beside him where they had been lying curled around one another seconds prior and again, he was thankful he was wearing his pajamas tonight. His thoughts had him mildly turned on and it was difficult enough ousting them. The last thought rang out in his head over and over again, but what escaped his lips at last was probably the most political way he could have mustered an answer to being woken up at eleven at night. "There was a clean towel in the armoire, you asshole."

"Alec, _**Clary's missing**_."

He decided to just cut to the chase and dove right into why he was there. Jace stared at the black- haired boy, waiting for his response. If anything, his lack of acknowledgement was the least likely scenario he imagined playing out. Where was the heart wrenching agony he had felt, the desperation? He and the Lightwood children were the oldest friends she had; he had imagined they would feel the same as he had. The other boy stared at him for a moment; his expression was lax from the awe Jace had expected and he left his mouth ajar for several minutes before he felt compelled to talk, "Yeah I know. It's terrible. Mom told me earlier."

Silence fell upon them and this time it was Jace that just stared as Alec got up out of bed and moved to the dresser. He dug through it, glancing at tags as he shifted things around in his search, tossing things he had deemed acceptable onto the armchair at his desk.

A blue and black boldly striped knit shirt found its way into his hands, a gift from Jace himself from his birthday in fact, and the soft, slightly worn fabric wrinkled knowingly in his hands when the other boy chose at last to speak.

"You didn't tell me?"

He sounded hurt. Shaking his head, Alec turned back to the bed to offer the long- sleeved top to the boy his mind had haunted him with now for years. He didn't take it. He just stared. "I couldn't let anything happen to you Jace. My mother told me to protect you and Izzy and Max. I did that. Even if it meant keeping you from harming yourself."

"Is that what you think?" Jace whispered harshly, coming to stand in front of the Lightwood boy, "That I would endanger myself? That I can't protect myself? How weak do you think I am?"

"You did, didn't you?" Alec asked, gesturing to the pile of clothes that hung haphazardly on his furniture. He had to drop a gross looking sock to open his dresser earlier, and the other articles had not surpassed his notice. They were _**still **_dripping water. "You're too stupid for your own good, sometimes. It's sleeting outside, Jace. Without the proper clothing, you're bound to get sick. Why are you here, anyway? What was so important that you couldn't wait until morning?"

Jace looked about to protest, but he knew Alec was right through and through. Taking the top, he slipped it on with a small word of thanks. Alec regretted the loss of skin, but he knew better than to leave the boy bare or else he probably would get very much sick. Perhaps he would be rewarded for his good care later, if he was good.

"Valentine."

The name didn't surprise him as much as it should have. Of course it had to do with his adoptive father. Alec was surprised that the boy hadn't more bruises to call rewards from his blatant disobedience, the way he remembered Jonathan limping around when they were kids and he mouthed off. Their father had a mean couple of hooks and when he got down and dirty he destroyed people. "Jace, you deserve to be treated better than this…"

He deserved better? What was Alec talking about? A weight rested on his forearm, and his golden eyes darted to the hand resting there which meant to be comforting. "He's assigned me the duty of returning Clary."

"When do we leave?"

"So you _**will **_come with me?" hopeful eyes looked to him. The excitement in the younger boy's eyes which illuminated them like a dying fire made Alec want to kiss him. How could he ever say no to the man he loved, the one he wanted? He couldn't, not now, not ever. Jace grabbed onto his pajama top so tightly that he could feel the warmth of his hands ebbing into the folds of the silk top. "Y' know, despite me being haphazard with my own well- being?"

"How could I leave you, Herondale? We've been planning this now for months." Alec rasped breathily, his hand coming to unwind a wet curl and settle it behind his ear, "Besides, someone has to make sure you don't get yourself killed on a wardrobe malfunction like earlier tonight."

A fist playfully slugged him in the shoulder and he side stepped the brunt of it with a laugh and a returned hit of his own.

_**XOX**_

One of the maids stood in the doorway, shaking as she covered her mouth, as if hiding half her face would reduce the likeliness that the master of the house would punish her later for this. She had failed him, in keeping his son from entering the office she had done nothing and now she feared the consequences of her ineptitude for the job.

His son was vengefully angry, and he shoved the woman out of his way as he barreled in, slamming the door between them with enough force to knock out a moose.

"_**WHERE is he**_!" Jonathan snarled, his hands slamming down on the desk. The tension in his shoulders stiffened down his entire back. He had been all over town now trying to track the boy down and he was nowhere to be found. Jace had never been apart for him for this long without his location being noted, and it did not settle even a little with him.

While his sister had gone missing, her replacement had gone AWOL as well and he wanted answers.

His father remained unbothered by his plight, looking casually at the journal he had in his hand as if he were in the coziest place in the world curled up without the slightest care in the world. His glasses hazed what he could see of the man as the fire light reflected in them, glinting new light over the page.

He grabbed the vase off the desk, sending it flying across the room when he was ignored long enough, casting broken pieces behind him along the bookshelf. Where it had struck, a crack now ran, crumbling slightly, and his father's gaze rose at long last to give him a neutral, dissecting look. It was a gaze he had been long used to in his father, as if he could read his mind reading his son's.

They both pondered the same question and gave the same response.

_**What makes you tick? What **_are_** you thinking?**_

_**You first.**_

The silence that rang out would have unnerved anyone else, but the father and son stared each other down, waiting for any sign of retreat. It was the third party in the room that finally broke the silence.

"Honestly, Jonathan!" Maryse cried, her head whipping upward to stare with her wide blue eyes in shock. The Morgenstern boy was never this rowdy, normally so in control of his emotions to the point that he seemed cool and collected. Now, she blindly picked out shards of ceramic, dropping them idly in the clean ash tray on the side table "Do try to control yourself. You're father's having a hard enough time of it without you-"

A hand raised and the woman fell silent immediately, looking to her master and lover for direction. "I've sent your brother along after her in your stead. With any luck, Jace will track her down and be back by the week's end, if my sources were correct."

His world was crashing down around him, and suddenly the gaunt boy felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't even move or think. The only thing he knew was panic and pain. It became a mantra in his mind, furthering his pain by delving into the terror and panicking even more as the agony increased, forming a vicious spiral into the darkness he had no hope of crawling out from.

First Clary went and got herself stolen from him, and now Jace... his Jace went running after her, doing their father's bidding.

_**He was alone… so terribly alone.**_

_**None of these people understood. How could they?**_

His hand came to cover his mouth, the bony fingers rattling frailly together as the blunt nails bit into his upper lip as it began to shake uncontrollably, and he turned away, looking everywhere and anywhere as his eyes began to burn. He could feel the beast sleeping within him awakening, and soon, very soon, it would rip itself free and take control. He was weak, so very weak now, and he had no idea how he would make it through now.

_**When would they return to him? Would they ever be back to normal again?**_

The brevity of their absence was shattering him now. What would he do, now that he had no way to reclaim himself from the darkness ebbing closer towards his heart, ready to devour everything he ever knew and loved, the very man he had grown to be?

He turned to look at the case of needles on the desk with disdain. It was his only choice now, his only salvation; without clarity in the form of his brother and sister, he would have to endure the haze, the crash and burn. He had no other option. He was playing a losing game any other way.

Maryse reached out to touch the young man's shoulder, trying to ease his conscious and soul. She didn't understand how dark his evil lurked but he was obviously in deep pain. Her fingers touched the sharp plane just barely and he retaliated, swinging like a wild animal and struck her hard across the face. In shock, the dark haired woman back stepped into the chair she once occupied, stumbling against it, her eyes wide as her hand lingered across the painful, angry red mark spreading over her jaw. _**He had… struck her…**_

Glancing up, his father watched the turmoil bubbling through his son. Jonathan had never cried in his life, but now he shook with unshed sorrow. Setting his pen down, Valentine leaned into one of his open palms, his elbow resting on the mahogany desk as he thought out his options carefully. His son needed him, for the first time in his life that he could recall that hadn't been initiated by falsehoods or what he himself had done to the boy.

Looking to the woman hovering near the armchair, ready and willing to pounce on his son at any moment, to try her best at fixing the boy, jamming pieces that were long ago shattered back into a semblance of a boy, regardless of how nothing fit together anymore, he warily eyed her. What would she do, could she do for his son that he had not already attempted to do? He was a gorge, plummeting darkness in the shifting cracks that swallowed you whole if you got to near. Sitting upright, Valentine cleared the desk of the books he had been referencing, arranging them into a neat pile and put them away in the drawer with a blind hand locking the file. "Maryse, leave us."

The woman turned, wide eyes bright in shock as she stared at him in confusion, "But Vale-"

The man halted her, a hand loose in the air as to silence her, as he gently rose like smoke from his chair, his eyes down cast as he took to gesturing around the room, as if she ought to have already gotten the hint "Go. You ought to already have been searching for Clary."

"Why are you still here, Maryse?" Valentine whispered vilely, "Do you think you can replace my wife? My daughter? Why are you still here?"

She remained hesitantly where she stood at the center of the room, hovering. Jonathan had been raised alongside her children, she practically raised him. Her son or not, she cared for the boy's plight, mildly. She ought to open her mouth and retaliate, to set the record straight with her lover, but she didn't have the strength to rebel against him. He _**had**_ lost his wife and daughter now, and he was right. Perhaps she was being selfish.

"I said _**Get. Out**_."

Maryse stormed out of the room, leaving the two empty men alone together. The silence dragged on between them, reigning supreme as both stood facing each other, weighing their worth and strengths in comparison. Valentine was kind enough not to make a big deal out of the tears that now escaped the boy that he had beautifully destroyed and rebuilt only to watch him as he fell apart again now, and Jonathan did his best not to draw too much attention to himself, knowing it only embarrassed his father more. Weakly, thy younger man ran his sleeve over his eyes, swiping over his entire face with little care that he wiped away wetness that dripped from his nose as well as his eyes.

"Sit."

"I'd rather stand, thank-"

"I said sit, damn it!" grabbing the boy roughly by the arm, he dragged him across the floor and slammed him into the armchair, his strong forearm baring his son in the seat for several moments, to get the point across. When he released him, his son shifted inward, pulling his feet up onto the wide chair so his knees clanged together weakly and he was in a near fetal position, turning in on himself further when he wrapped his long arms about the thin legs before him, as he might have if he had been on his own in his room and not being held prisoner by his father's looming form.

His father fell to kneel at his feet, pulling gently at one of the arms he had wrapped around himself, outstretching the flesh of his forearm, leaving his son open and vulnerable. The hand that held his was warm, so like Clary's but it lacked the loving tenderness that hers did, even if he did feel cared for now in this moment. His father's thumb thrummed over the pulse point at his wrist as he gingerly prepared the pale flesh at his forearm like he had done for years. Jonathan watched him with blood- shot eyes, hateful of his weakness, and everything that the needle represented as it was drawn off of the desk, and cried out as it breached his flesh.

He couldn't help but begin to shake as he felt the familiar sting, the burning that overtook his arm like his father was plunging his arm into a furnace and held it there, forcing him to endure the agony of his flesh melting from the bone. His other hand shot up, weakly clawing at his father's arms and hands as he shoved him back into his seat for his own good.

_**It was for his own good after all.**_

As Valentine drew away at long last, the black- eyed boy gave out a heart- wrenching sob, something mixed between a cry and a choking noise.

It was the first time the boy had ever cried out. Probably the first time Jonathan had_** ever cried**_.

Drawing up again to the boy's side, Valentine felt like he had been a terrible father to the boy. They were both hurting, but it seemed that his son was going through a rough patch, something he hadn't had to endure yet. If he was another man, _**a better man**_, he thought bitterly, he would have been able to fix this. Hell, his son would not have had to go through this in the first place.

He remained still against him as the boy began to shake against his chest and his arms tightened around his frail frame. It had been years since he had been allowed this close, that he had even considered doing this. Too soon, he would black out and he would probably forget everything that led up to his waking up again.

With a firm hand, he drew the boy's disheveled head beneath his lips, kissing the white disarrayed crown of the boy he had created and destroyed on the single worst whim of his life.

This could have been his son, beautiful and weak and beside himself with emotions when the worst came upon him.

But instead he had breathed life into a monster.

_**XOX**_

_**Author's Note:**_

_**Hopefully I didn't let any of you down. The length of this thing began so monstrously that I had to cut it into two chapters. I decided this when I hit 8 k and saw the how long my outline was for the rest of the chapter. So the result is one massive chapter that will be cut in two without any nice, even ending and the conclusion half that will be nice and concise. The first part you get now and the other will probably début in a few weeks after when I find time to twerk it to my liking and fill in all the crannies that aren't connect just yet.**_

_**Not that this chapter didn't end perfectly, but I did some tweaking (and effective cutting, as there were blockier scenes when I first started) before posting to give it a bit of an emotional end.**_

_**I'm hoping for the second half to be released tentatively 2 weeks from Christmas in the States and possibly another chapter before Christmas, if I get the time to finish that up. With the holidays, I never know what my schedule will look like, but I have 6 engagements scheduled for my weekend life, and at work I can go as far as 55 hours a week in November and December, so that cuts down most of my writing to hiding in the corners drafting out notes when inspiration strikes and then writing on my breaks and the few hours I have when I get home. This whole season sucks. I love the holidays, but leading up to it you have to deal with a lot of crappy people working retail.**_

_**This was done a week earlier than planned, so maybe there is a bit of hope for the scheduled releases to be orderly and on time, but like I said, it might be off, just knowing the season.**_

_**Realized I have not been doing disclaimers.**_

_**I do not own The Mortal Instruments or its characters therein. I do however own this story, the OC's that have been introduced, and the words that strung it together. Do not steal my work, a lot of work went into this, and finally I in NO way make any profit from this.**_

_**Those OC's so far are (maybe Jonathan Wayland depending on how you look at it), Vianey and her two brothers Asa and Mica. Their backstory will evolve a bit more with the story. All of the other werewolves I have named, I tried to keep true to the story and timeline I have set. Those that were born werewolves would still be lycanthrope, those that were changed in say NY, would remain human unless a trade happens. More on that to come as well.**_

_**Amabel and Kito are legitimate characters too. Both small, small names: Amabel was the werewolf in the bar that came across the dead boy, and Kito was the pack leader before Veronique who was before Gabriel before Lucian. Bit humor in the comment I made for those that noticed that. For those of you curious, I don't have all of the werewolf Alpha's picked out, but I know Kito and Lucian are irrevocably ones, and have been considering Veronique. Maybe Gabriel as well. Any other ideas? There are 7 Alphas and one of them that rules over them all. **_

_**For those of you interested in what inspires me as I write:**_

_** playlist?list=PL7Rz4F_r0VOG1ceNQQOi6Uy2gaoOBPCEP**_

_**If the link does not show, simply search 'Me and Mine' in You Tube's search engine. It is the playlist with over 200 videos.**_

_**I get the feeling someone might have already stumbled on this, as it has about three thousand views already, but who knows. Maybe I just make a mean playlist.**_

_**Special thanks to my2guys for their continued support. I love hearing from my readers. Let's me know that there are actually people elsewhere that are reading and enjoying the effort I took in writing this.**_

_**If I am unable to post before, I wish you all a wondrous Thanksgiving for those of you who will be celebrating it.**_

_**I'm grateful for all of you. Much love to my readers and everyone that reviews.**_

_**Liked it? Review it, Follow it, Fave it.**_

_**Share that love.**_

_**Till Next Time**_

_**TAORI**_


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